I have been told more than once that I'm not aging well. I beg to differ. Every part of my body is aging well. All my life any endeavor I've opted to do or any job I've been given I try to do my best to do it very well or to not to do it at all. Our parents drummed pride in a job well done into us all our lives.
They didn't try to tell us what to do with our lives, well, most of us they didn't try to tell what to do. The stubborn 5th child, a girl child, moi, wanted to be an artist. My father wouldn't hear of it. No daughter of his was going to be an artist... it was too bohemian a lifestyle. I was to work for a company if I wanted but his main desire was for me to get married and birth babies. I think that was the one job given me that I not only didn't do well... I didn't do at all. It was one of the few blowouts I had with my father and it's a story for later.
But back to my aging well, contrary to popular belief. If you look at photos of a person through the years you see the changes that are related to the teens, twenties, thirties and so forth. In the teens, at least in my teens back in the day, we walked tall with straight backs and dutiful strides from class to class. In the twenties, college for some, jobs for others and a busy straight forward time for learning whatever one wanted to do for a career, well, except for me because I still don't know what I want to do, busy dating trying to find that special someone with which we would want to share our lives with, going on weekend jaunts to the lake to play like there was no tomorrow to impress whomever we were trying to convince we or they were worthy of our attention. At this time in my life I was fairly fit as all my life I have been physically active.
Then the thirties... life started interfering with all the fun activities that helped keep me fit. Things like working for a living because it was way past time to cut the umbilical cord and I wanted to buy my own cars and whatever toys I wanted in my life, my guitar, stereo and all the things that made my home a home to me. Looking back I can now see
Do you ever get hit with postus interruptus? I started on this post a several days ago then got distracted and I can't for the life of me remember what it was I could see looking back. I know what I wanted to write about when I started the post, which was bitching about aging, but when I came back to the draft and got to that line, I have no inkling of where I was going with with the rest of the post.
So y'all get to speculate along with me on what I can see looking back... and if I think of it I'll finish this post down the road. And the day this is posting is 3/7/2011, the draft was started on 3/1/2011.