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“Anti-” aging, my ass . . .

Who is driving your “car” . . . ? You should be, with your strong capable hands and able mind . . .

an·ti/ˈanˌtī/  / Opposed to; against. A person opposed to a particular policy, activity, or idea.

Ad on Facebook sidebar: “Woman is 53 But Looks 27!”

So, “Madison Avenue” couldn’t come up with a better word than Anti-Aging? What the hell, y’all! I’m tired of the idea that age is something we have to cure. As if it’s a disease, something so horrible we must fight it within every inch of our wrinkles, fear it. Forget the Zombie Apocalypse, we have Night of the Living Old where everyone runs around screaming in terror.

Folkses, we all are going to age until and unless we die. That’s about it. You can practice every kind of “anti-aging” in your arsenal but you are still going to age your ass off. So how’s about we drive our own aging cars where we want them to go, and that’s to Kicking Ass Land.

Instead of being “Anti” aging, why not think of it in more positive terms? There’s nothing wrong with a desire to look good for our age—the mistake people make is when they want to remain forever in their twenties and thirties or whatever that magic number is where one thought one looked and felt ones best or one thought one was at the top of one’s game and now that one isn’t at that age the panic button is feverishly pounded and WAH WAH WAH SOB WAH. *Yawn* I’m bored.

Instead of the negative “anti,” consider instead the “pro” and how you can Kick Ass and be AWESOME where you are in your life Right Now.

Other than normal “wear and tear and aging” in my body, I’m in the best shape of my life. I still can strut me some skinny jeans if’n I want to. I can run and jump and skip and

our bodies are wonderlands . . .

do high-energy plyometrics on the treadmill for an hour and still have enough energy to hit the mat for another thirty or so, and then waltz out the gym ready to take on the day. I’m writing novels. I’m hiking mountains.

And I have sex (Mom, Brothers, Son—don’t read this part:) and it’s more fun and more intense than at any time in my life—that’s right, y’allses, the KABOOM is KABOOMIER. Who says menopause and aging is the end to good explosive sex?—yup, youngermiesters, some of your moms and dads and even your grandmothers and granddads are still YIPPIE YAI KAI YO KAI YAYING in the bedroom, ha! Yeah—picture that all day, wontcha? Haw! You’re welcome.

And what do I do to feel so great? I don’t sit on my ass and moan about how old I’m becoming. I don’t rely on Magic Pills or Magic Surgery or Magic Injections to alter my outward appearance while my inward appearance flails around in Panic Land that I’m growing older. And please, y’all, believe me I’m not being critical of those who decide to go the surgery/injection route, as long as they are realistic about it. Go google “plastic surgeries gone wrong” and there you go. There has to be some realistic acceptance of some aspects of aging, just say’n.

Tips to Pro-Aging:

Eat healthfully. Stuffing our faces with fast food, processed food, added sugar, and bad-for-our body fats, isn’t the way to go out and kick ass at any time of our life, but as we age, we must take stock of our health even more so. Live that way and your body and brain will be sluggish and shitty, and as you further age, the sluggish shitties will worsen—oh, and you may die sooner, and that would suck, wouldn’t it? Does this mean I never have candy or cake or ice-cream? Hell no! But when I do, I enjoy it more because it’s a treat, and it tastes so much better. I also splurge on The Good Stuff because I don’t eat it often.

Women: I wrote a post before about the benefits of testosterone compound cream. When we go through menopause we can lose testosterone, affecting our moods, our “brain clarity,” energy, and our libido. The compound has changed my life—but I feel like myself, not some super-duper-weird altered version of myself. Consult your doctor, always. It’s the only hormone I take into my body and it works for me without any side effects, but everyone is different.

Get your ass off the couch or out of the chair and move. The stronger you feel, the more powerful you are. Being fit and strong means you are able to care for

A walk costs nothing and is easy on the joints if you have tender areas. Walk, it’s a good start.

yourself. Work on strength, aerobic fitness, balance—all these mean that as we age, barring anything that is not in our control (and there is always something that can happen that we cannot control), we should be able to kick-ass and be strong well into our Very Old Agedom. Shame on you if you sit on your ass eating crappy food, smoking, drinking too much, not going for check-ups, ignoring your health, and then possibly “saddle” your spouse/partner/kids/grandkids with your care. Again, I emphasize how this does not apply to those who had something happen that is not under their control. Sometimes sucky things happen to us no matter how much we take care of ourselves. That’s just life. But when we have a CHOICE, how will we choose for ourselves and for our spouses/partner/children/grandchildren?

You know those pesky annoying negative soul-sucking people in your life? The ones who have been hanging on your back and hollering in your ear for years? Well, kick their ass to the curb. See ya! What? Sound mean? Well, if you are around someone(s) who sucks every ounce of joy or energy out of you, constantly whining and crying on your shoulder, constantly a big Pain in the Ass, then why allow that to continue into your Agedom? What’s in it for you? There must be something in it for you or else you’d finally kick them to the curb, right? Riiiigghht. If this PITA is someone you simply can’t walk away from, then find a way to short circuit the Negative Whiny Woe Is Me talk. Take your power back. Take control of the time you have left on this earth. You are an adult now, yeah, it’s true! And adults have choices. This next phase is time to sort through all the people who’ve come into your life and see who makes you happy and content and who tires the unholy hell out of you and needs a wake-up slap upside their pea-heads—you are in charge now. Believe that.

Do something you love.I know that not everyone has the luxury of quitting their jobs to do what they love full time, but, until that day comes, why not go for the here

I’m an author; I love photography; I love fitness – all things I’m passionate about and pursue with joy

and there moments to find your passion and pursue it. To say, “This is time for Me. Go Away.” Your friends and family will only respect the idea of you finding your passion and pursuing it if you respect it within yourself. If someone says, “You’re too old,” or “You can’t,” then sweetly and gently say, “Go fuck yourself.”

Excuses suck. “I’m too old” is an excuse. “I will look silly doing that because I’m old” is an excuse. “I am tired because I’m old” –excuse. If you have a Real Reason for why you aren’t doing what you love, or why you aren’t out there kicking ass, then don’t beat yourself up about it, for we must also respect the tender parts of ourselves, the parts that have served us well but something just went wrong. But if you know good and damned well you are opening that mouth and vomiting out excuse after excuse, then Stop It, goddammit!

Alternatively, we don’t have to live the commercials on TV. What I see on ads/commercials is that Boomers are out there Taking On The World—jumping out of planes, sitting in bathtubs with their significant other while watching the sunset after they’ve just had WHOOP! sex (though, huhn, read above *laugh*), they are faster than a speeding bullet and leaping over tall buildings at a single bound—Super Boomers! Well, part of being kick-ass is recognizing what you are doing because it’s good for you and you are passionate about it versus what you think you ought to be doing because “everyone else is doing it.” Huhn. Naw, we aren’t all doing it all. Who is, really, no matter their age?

I hate to use the old cliché, but it’s so true. When you are lying there dying your ass off, you may just think, “How’d it go so fast? And why didn’t I . . . .”  So, see what you want to fill in the blanks for that . . . and then start finding ways to enjoy or do or be that . . .

Maw Maw – I’m not my grandmothers kind of grandmother . . .

I go by the: Just cause I can wear it, doesn’t mean I should, and, the I’m not wearing Maw Maw clothes even if I am a Granny. You won’t see me in mini-skirts, or jeggings (lawd, those need to go away), or a bikini, or trying to wear clothes a twenty year old (or worse, teenager) would wear. However, if I can rawk out some skinny jeans and boots or stilettos and a form-fitting top, then I am. You also won’t see me in sweat pants or elastic-waist polyester pants suits, either, or sloppy-ass ill-fitting clothes that I am hiding in because I’ve given up—because I haven’t given up and you shouldn’t either.

Take care of your hair and skin. By eating well, and if you like, with “products.” Though I hate the term “anti-aging” what I am happy about is that finally there are products geared towards people over thirty. Some are better than others, but you can be the judge of what works for you, and how far you want to take the producting of your hair and skin—some people wash their face and are done with it, and nothing wrong with that if you Own It, and simply like things, well, simple. Personally, I enjoy pampering my skin and hair because it makes me feel good about myself and I like the results. Men aren’t pressured as much as women are to be “youthful,” but that’s fast a-changing, oh yes it is, if commercials and ads are any indication.

Finally, surround yourself with as much beauty and love and light and positives as you are able to. And as for the crappier stuff, well, learn how to put all of that into perspective—take back your power, do your best, work with what you have, make choices based on what is best for you and for your loved ones. You can be a loving, giving person without letting people walk over you. The two things—being a giving person and being taken from—are not equal.

Now, let’s  take the term “anti-aging” and stomp over it while on the way to kicking ass and feeling our best. Pro-Aging. Yeah. Goddammit, I like that.

Scenes from a Marriage: Morning

Eyes open. Heave out of bed. Feet in slippers. Coffee pot turned on to grind beans and start brewing process. Me makes up bed while GMR puts seed out for birds/squirrels. Wash face . . . etc.

There is a dance and rhythm to the morning.
Me and GMR want to get to that pot of coffee as soon as it finishes brewing, pour a cup (black for me; cream and sugar for GMR).

Me trudge trudges to coffee pot; hair askew, face dragging the ground.

Chipper Dipper GMR is between coffee and Me.

Me: “Urghhhherrrghhhhhh . . .” *Imagine Frankenstein asking for coffee*

GMR: “What?”

Me: “Ugrreehhrhhrhrhrgrhhhhhgrrrr . . .” points to coffee cup. *translation: Me want coffee now, move outta way. Me want coffee NOW!”

GMR: “Well, Good Morning to you, too!” (said a bit snippity high horse if Me asks me). Pours Me a cup and hands it over.

Me: “Ugrhh . . .” then, “I couldn’t sleep . . . I’m discombobulated. Coffee. Need.”

GMR: Said uber concerninglingly and innocentinglyly: “Did your back pain keep you up, hmmmmmmmm?”

Me: Gives him That Look. “Um, noooo. Your noises kept me up.” *AGAIN is implied here*

GMR: “Noises? I made noises?”

Me: My inside voice: *OMG! How many times do we have to go through this? How many times I have to tell him?* “Yes, your noises.”

GMR: “Me or the (cpap) machine?”

Me: *how . . . many . . . times . . . must . . . we . . . go . . . et cetera . . . * “Both! I was awakened about fifty-galleven million times …ughrhhhgrrrr.” (Just want coffee).

GMR: “I made noise?”

Me: Gives That Look again. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a full good night’s sleep. I mean . . . it’s like this:” *Me mimics the sound of gale force wind gusting through a narrow lead pipe.*

GMR: Says nothing. But his inside voice is saying, *Boy is she cranky! Oh well, doop doop, beep beep blorp blick flickering inner television screen….. She’ll get over it. Do do do do do la la la..images from Law & Order, Food Network, Jeopardy … blip blorp… ….Well, I’ll just be the best ole husband I can be the rest of the day and she’ll forget about all this can’t sleep because of some noise that’s probably nothing at all and she’s making a big deal of out of what’s nothing at all business. *** white noise white noise white noise white noise****

Me: Takes coffee and sludgers away to her laptop. *I swear! I can’t sleep! I’m sooooo tired! I’m soooo sick of whooooosh whoooooosh WOOOO WOWOO WOOOOOwhooooshhh, and another thing, while I’m at it . . . hey, SHINY THING SHINY THING SHIINNNNNYYY THINNNNNGGGG IS DISTRACTING ME — and . . . that . . .who what where when how why . . . did I do those edits? Hey, here’s some email, oh wait, there’s a facebook message, oh, twitter . . . ***music music earworm music ….* and boy he makes me mad when . . . where did I put my . . . I’m hungry** *

GMR: GMR has his cup and goes to his computer. **white noise white noise white noise white noise white noise . . . online crossword puzzle white noise puzzle white noise**

How it Could Go, and Perhaps A Version of How It Has Gone:

Me: “Good Morning! That coffee sure smells good!”

GMR: “Well, here’s a nice fresh cup!”

Me: “Thank you! *sip* hmmm doggies! That’s some good coffee!” Big Fat Morning Smile.

GMR: “Uh huh.” Fiddle dee dee with his cream and sugar.

Me: *takes a sip of good ole coffee* “Hey, by the waysies, GMR ole buddy, ole pal: I had a hard time sleeping last night. Maybe it’s time to have that ole zippity do dah day cpap machine fixed, or something, tootle lee doo? Might be a good idea to look into it!” *Big Arse Happy Go Lucky Ain’t Life Grand Smile*

GMR: “Huhn . . .uh huh. Maybe so. I’ll look into it. Yessirree indeedy do!” GMR’s inside voice says, *I don’t want to deal with that; so I’ll just be the best ole husband I can be the rest of the day and she’ll just forget about all this can’t sleep stuff, fix the whatever ***Flickering TV Screen, crossword puzzle, blip blorp . . . White noise white noise white noise white noise*** . . .

Me: Walks away with coffee. Inside voice: *I am SOOOOO tired. Unghhhh. I’m so . . .. SHINY THING SHINY THING . . . *

*sighhhhhhhhhhh*

In the Car: Scene from a Marriage

Me: OMG! Watch out! You’ll hit that squirrel!

GMR: It’ll move out of the way.

Me: but what if it doesn’t? You didn’t even slow down! What if it isn’t paying attention and you run it over . . .

GMR: It didn’t; look, it’s running off.

Me: But you COULD have run over it is what I’m saying. You didn’t even slow down is what I’m saying. It could have happened because you don’t slow down but instead just barrell on ahead, oblivious to things in your way.

GMR: *his inside head: – but it didn’t happen, so there!* His outside mouth saying: *sigghhhhhh*

Later:

Me: OMG! You hit that bird. Omg omg! Poor little bird! You didn’t slow down and see see seeeee! You hit it! I TOLD you this would happen.

GMR: I hit it? Did I? Are you sure?

Me: Yes! I saw it… oh oh ugh – ohhh, poor little bird. I told you and told you to slow down when you see critters! *unnghhh unngghhh* poor bird. I can’t stand it.

GMR: I’m sorry! *said in a not really THAT sorry voice; the bird shouldn’t have been that stupid, and in fact it wasn’t, for that bird got out of the way, so there*

Me: When we drive back this way, I hope I don’t see that bird with its guts hanging out. Ohhh ughhnnnnn.

Later:

No dead bird is seen.

GMR: *doesn’t say anything on the outside, but on the inside is going nya nya nya – no bird with guts hanging out – so it flew off nya nya*

Me: I bet it dragged its little self off in the grass somewhere. I bet it’s cheeping out its last breaths out of its bloody beak as I speak. Ugnnggghhh. Poor little bird. I told you to slow down!

GMR: sighhhhhhh.

Later:

Me: Why do you always back into the parking spaces?

GMR: because it’s faster when I pull out.

Me: But, it takes longer to back in, so doesn’t that make it a wash? I mean, if you spend extra time backing in, it nullifies the pulling out quickly, doesn’t it?

GMR: Sighhhhhhhhhhh. Okay, I won’t back in next time.

Me: No, don’t just agree with me. I’m asking because I am curious. What I’m saying is: I’m asking you: Is it really faster? I’m curious. If you back in to get out faster, is it really faster in the Long Run . . . you know, if the time is added up ToGether. Not just pulling out, but the action of backing in AND the action of pulling out added together. Is that faster or is that a wash, thereby nullifying your theory of it being faster?

GMR: Huhn?

Later:

Me: OMG! You almost killed us! You need to pay attention! That truck is three times our size! SPLAT KABLAM, we could be dead right now! I haven’t finished the edits on my novel – I’ll be dead and with an unfinished work – oh no! Unngghhhhh. I wonder if my friends or family will know to look in my hard drive . . . If we’d burst into flames, that saves my cremation cost, right? Oh, but maybe not… OH! I don’t want to think about that! Gross! Stop my brain from thinking about it! This is what happens when you almost get hit by a big truck thrice your size! Be careful, okay? That’s all I’m saying, just be careful. We could be dead Right Now!

GMR: But I didn’t kill us. Um . . .

Me: But you COULD have!

GMR: sighhhhhh.

Later:

GMR: #*#*$& MOVE!!! #*#@*$#! *races up to the bumper of other car, angrily flicks his blinker, careens around it, then as he passes, he gives them the look, aggressively unflicks his blinker, and then races in front of them to haul ass away with a “that’ll show em attitude”*

Me: OMG! Are we running a race? I mean really? Are we? Running a race? this is a small town; we don’t have to go ninety to nothing down Highway 19, okay?

GMR: They were (out of towners from a certain state that NCers have a rivalry with) and they pulled right out in front of me and then go slow and it drives me crazy! I hate that—they could have more courtesy; they don’t own the roads here! – actually GMR doesn’t SAY all this aloud, actually, he just gets THAT LOOK and says, “O’KAY, All RIGHT…” *sighhhhhhhhhhh*

Me: Still. Huhn.

Later:

Me: OMG! Do you have to race up then slow down, race up then slow down, race up then slow down? Drives me insane!

GMR: I’m not doing that.

Me: Yes you are, too! Stop it . . . drives me in-SANE.

GMR: okay okay *inside voice says I am SO not doing that* sighhhh.

Me: Well, I dreamed we got into an accident so you have to be more careful.

GMR: *inside voice: not those dreams again . . . * outside voice, “Okay.”

Me: You SAY okay, but are you really listening?

GMR: I’m listening. I said okay.

Me: But I mean LISTENING. Not just hearing words come out my mouth and hearing those words, but actually HEARING them and then PROCESSING them so that you UNDERSTAND them!

GMR: uh huh

Me: Sigghhhhhhh.

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