Several years ago, I wrote a post about getting old based on confusing two songs, both named Jungle Love. One was by Steve Miller, and one was by Morris Day and the Time.
It’s been seven years since I wrote that. In that length of time, I’ve gotten approximately 31 years older.
Later this year – on July 2, to be exact – I plan to turn 49. I don’t have anything else scheduled for July 2, anyway, so it seems like a good way to spend the day. And honestly, getting older doesn’t bother me too much, apart from the way my right knee crackles when I go up the stairs, or the way I can’t eat anything other than raw carrots and broccoli without gaining four pounds, or the way my youngest sons, ages 12 and 6, can routinely beat me at video games and sometimes feel sorry for me in the process, or the way my lovely and talented wife, Aries28, occasionally has to give me a push to help me get out of bed in the mornings, or the way today’s music sounds like cats in a blender that’s set to “Puree,” or the way those darned kids keep playing on my lawn.
But there are some things that are troublesome that I’ve begun to notice. I don’t know if they’re specific to me, or if everybody experiences them, so before I forget them (which is another thing that’s happening more and more frequently now), I thought I’d make a quick list. Feel free to add your own.
Body hair.
I’ve always been a semi-hairy guy, but this is getting ridiculous. I understand things like nose hair and ear hair serve a natural function – namely, lowering my attractiveness to women. My doctor says they also work as filters, to keep dust particles and foreign objects from getting into my body through my nostrils or ear canals.
But over the past couple of years, my body has really stepped up the production of hair in these areas. Not only that, but the hair that grows there now is a lot thicker and stronger than it used to be. Apparently my body is concerned that I might start trying to inhale a beach ball, or shove a Winnebago into my ear, and is proactively growing hair that can prevent these events. I will cheerfully sign a contract with my body, stipulating I will never attempt to do these things, if it will just cut me some slack in the hair-production area.
And I don’t even want to talk about what’s happening on my back.
Gas.
At some point in the recent past, I have become a LOT gassier than I used to be. Maybe it’s all the raw carrots and broccoli I have to eat now. Maybe global climate change is affecting the barometric pressure in my intestines. Maybe I’ve become lactose-intolerant in my old age. But whatever it is, it’s causing some issues.
Most every morning, when I wake up, I stumble into the bathroom (after Aries28 has helped push me out of the bed) and pee. And while I’m peeing, I pass gas. Loudly. And by “loudly,” I mean “One morning I was looking out the window when I played my butt-tuba and I saw a small plane flying overhead get knocked off course by the sonic waves.”
Sometimes, when I’m playing a shoot-em-up video game with the two youngest boys, I’ll pass gas. And I think it’s a quiet, demure poot, but that’s because all the hair in my ears is keeping me from hearing properly. The boys will look at me and ask, “Did you just throw a grenade in the game, or was that your butt exploding?”
And I honestly don’t know what to tell them, because of …
Memory loss.
I mentioned my forgetfulness a moment ago (or at least, I think I did). Now, my memory has never been stellar, but it wasn’t just HORRIBLE. That’s changing as I get old(er).
Just last night, I came in from the gym, took my shower, and started putting on my pajamas. I had everything on but my socks, and I started rooting through my sock drawer looking for a pair. Aries28 asked me what I was doing. “I’m looking for SOCKS,” I said. I was a bit more snappish than I needed to be, but honestly, what did she THINK I was doing? It was my SOCK drawer, for Pete’s sake – what else would I be looking for in there?
And she said, “You mean socks other than the ones you have in your hand?”
I looked, and she was right – I was holding a pair of socks in my hand. I had gotten them out when I started putting on my pajamas, and in the 30 seconds it took to get dressed, I had forgotten I was holding them. What’s worse, I used the hand holding the socks to open the sock drawer, and I HAD TO CHANGE MY GRIP ON THE DRAWER HANDLE TO DO IT. And I STILL forgot I was holding the stupid socks.
One day soon, you may see a strange figure wandering along the side of the road. The figure will be covered in coarse, fur-like hair, and will smell terribly. It will appear to be lost and confused. Your spouse, or friend, or whoever you’re with at the time, will punch you excitedly on the arm and say, “Look! It’s Bigfoot! We’re seeing Bigfoot! Take a picture!”
And you will smile, shake your head in a world-weary way, and say, “No, that’s just Sauron. He’s old. I’ll call his wife so she can come get him again.”
