Thursday, January 13, 2011

Getting Old

We all get little signs along the way. Your skin begins to dry out. Like leather. Ashy. Takes a bottle of lotion a week to keep it from looking like alligator hide. And I don't mean that sweet smelling girly lotion either. I'm talking about the real deal stuff. That kind that smells like your Grandma. Well, now it kinda smells like me.

Your hair gets thinner. And I mean naturally thinner. Not just because you have decided that L'Oreal Inc. doesn't know what the heck they are talking about. My hair is harder to color than most. So, I decided, if the box says 40 minutes for normal hair, 45 minutes for hard to color hair...then 60 minutes ought to be just perfect! Uh No. I did that for almost year. And then my hair began to give up. And FALL OUT. I am currently on hair color restriction. Have been since September 2010. I must have the salon do that for me now. Or maybe forever. I don't know that my stylist will ever trust me again on my own..with a box of hair color.

My eyes started failing me when I was about 42 years old. For the last 3 years, I have had my lens changed once a year. They are beginning to look like Coca Cola bottles. So thick. Like the kids that we made fun of in school. The geeky ones with the thick lens. I cannot see two feet in front of me. And read?? FORGET IT. I went to the grocery store a few months back. Left home without my glasses. I got half way up the road and realized it. I thought to myself, I can do this. The grocery store is nothing. I get the same things every week. Well yeah, I do. Like milk and bread. That I have to read the expiration dates on...I left the buggy right where it stood. On the bread aisle. That was as far as I got.

And the wrinkles. Lawd have mercy. The ones around your eyes and your mouth. On your hands. And age spots on your hands. No miracle cream that I have found, really gets rid of any of that. 

My bones hurt every day. All of them. Not a day goes by that I don't know I have a back. By the end of the day my feet hurt. I am overweight. But I choose to say it's old age. Funny how we pick and choose being old as being our problem when it suits us.

I don't remember the last time someone asked me for my ID. Well, yes, I guess I do. Today when I had blood work done. Now, I know this was for security and identification reasons. But really, is anyone really going to come in and voluntarily give blood for someone else. I wasn't having a drug test. Because you know, people will loan out their urine in a minute. But blood..nah. That involves needles and pain. Most folks are on their own with that one.

And my is absolutely shot out. I cannot remember from one minute to the next. I make everybody right everything down. I have a purse full of sticky notes. I have no idea who they came from now, but I have them. So, if you give me a note, better right your name down on it. Or else when I come back from CVS you might get a bottle of Maalox instead of the chocolate covered cherries you requested. I leave myself messages on my own work phone and house phone. You should see my face at 8am, when I am listening to the messages on my phone. And the one I left for myself the night before begins to play, and I am wondering, why I am hearing a voice that sounds familiar, because I didn't remember doing it.

Today though, today was bad. I had appointments in Tallahassee for some medical tests (which I am finding are a MAJOR part of growing old) and blood work. I am about home. Still driving, talking to my mother on my cell phone about my morning. I get all the way home. Getting out of my truck, under my carport. I turn to get something out of my backseat. And I see him. A State Trooper. A very young State Trooper. I just stood there. The blue lights were going. No siren. I guess if I had not turned around, I would have come straight on into my house. He would have had to have gotten out and knocked on my back door! Anyway, I asked him was he following me. He said yes. I asked for how long. He said for about a 1/2 mile. I was shocked..stunned..I said really? He said yes, ma'am. And asked to see my license and went back to his car. With the blue flashing lights..still going. About 10 minutes later, he rolls the window down, and calls me over to his car. He asked me did I have my registration and insurance cards. I said yes, would you like for me to get them. He ignored me. He said, "I am going to try and help you today Mrs. Mims. Where were you coming from", he asks me. I tell him, and why. Now I have to admit, I laid it on pretty thick. About my medical stuff. And I shamelessly took off my jacket so he could see my bandaged arm from my blood work. My proof. He's still writing, not talking. Paper is coming out of a printer. Yes, he had a printer in his car. I was looking all up in that rig. I was not despondent enough that I forgot about being nosy. He pulls the paper off the printer and says, "I am going to help you today. I am writing you a warning ticket for the 62 in the 45. But for your non-proof of registration and insurance"...I try and interrupt, he held his hand up..and continued..."that I was not able to see today, I am writing you a ticket for both. If you take these tickets, to the courthouse, with your proof of registration and insurance, the tickets will be waived." I could have kissed his face. I thanked him a gazillion times and swore to him again that I did not see him. I would not have just kept driving like that. Funny how old people have the need to be believed. He said, "Yes ma'am, it sounds like you had a bad morning. But, please do me a favor. If you have to get back out on the road today, please try and pay closer attention to the speed zones and your surroundings." I promised that I would, like the sweet little old lady that I am, and I waved as he drove off. It's a southern thing, we wave at everyone who's leaving. From anywhere.

I don't really know when it started. This getting old deal. It just seemed to jump on me from out of nowhere. But it's here, as much as I try and ignore it.   I hate all the bad stuff about it, loss of eyesight, hearing, memory, and mind. But I try and think of the good stuff. Old people get discounted airfare, hotel rooms, and restaurant costs. At least I'll have more money in my pocket. I may not know how to count it anymore..but I'll have it.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims


  1. OMG!!! Girl You are soooo funny!!!

  2. Love reading your posts!! We can all relate!!

  3. I love this one as much as the others you are very talented. I hope whoever becomes your publisher that you will remember I need a job....Tim and Debi Drawdy

  4. Love it!!! Oh how we all can relate!!♥

  5. Girlfriend...YOU CRACK ME UP...I bout had to break out my inhalers... I was laughing so much I started wheezing!!!!

  6. Just wait til your the old lady who takes 20 minutes to dig the two pennies out of her purse in the checkout line.

  7. crack ME up..inhalers..LOL!!!
    And Kimmie...that was better than my finishing line..loved it!!! LOL!!!

  8. I love reading about how your day goes!! I had to relay this story, and we're all cracking up :D