I’m sure I’m not in the minority here when I say that getting old absolutely s***s .
It stinks. It stinks bad , and I know we’re supposed to wear our age like some sort of badge of honor but I’m more of the opinion that we should all be given the choice of either that taking that badge, or assuming the ability to start Benjamin Button-ing when we hit a certain age.
Personally, I’m inclined to pick the latter.
Aging is pretty much like opening a bunch of presents that you didn’t ask for, didn’t want, but can’t return.
Remember when you used to be able to have drink than four beers in a night without having to spend the entire next day lying in bed and waiting for the sweet, sweet embrace of death?
Yeah, me too. Good times.
And hey, do you remember when your body wasn’t a symphony of noises you couldn’t control?
Honestly, I’m so used to hearing my joints pop and crack that now it’s almost more concerning if I don’t hear anything.
The other day I was attempting a morning workout and when my shoulder didn’t make that noise it normally does, I audibly said, “Uh oh.”
To be honest, getting old isn’t really *as* bad as I thought it would be.
Of course, that’s not to say it’s great by any means. But it’s also not the fast-lane into retirement living that I thought it would be.
Sure, after a certain birthday they all just seem to start coming quicker and quicker. But hey, that means having cake more often, right? So… score?
I guess what I’m trying to say is there are ups and downs to growing older and hopefully a little wiser.
It’s not all bad. For instance, my boyfriend and I now have daily contests where we compete to see who got the most sleep last night. I don’t win very often, or at all if I’m being honest. But I’m always very eager to try my luck at beating him every morning.
And one of these days, I’m sure I’m going to win. Like, statistically speaking.
Last Updated on June 27, 2020 by Caitlyn Clancey