Oh My Achin' Back

Whatever it was I did yesterday, pinched a nerve or pulled a muscle, I can tell you that right now I am in significant pain. Not kidney stone pain or labor without drugs pain, but pain. I imagine the little torked out bit of my back that is causing all this and marvel again at how finely tuned our bodies are that one little thing wrong can affect the whole system.

What I'm not going to do is go on about getting old. A) I don't think this has a lick to do with age and everything to do with twisting incorrectly while stroking The Dog. 2) I hate it when people in their 40s bitch about their age. I mean, really!

I have a couple of people in my life who do this. Mind you, they are younger than I am. To hear these people talk you would think they are this close to being shipped off to a nursing home. One is regaled with the endless details of their medical conditions. A hot flash is cause for an elaborate strip tease and dramatic sighing. Because Lord knows we don't want to miss the opportunity to share such an intimate experience with another person. Every creak, every twinge is attributed immediately to old age. (OK, seriously, I was talking recently to one of these people and I mentioned that I was tired. She said, "Well, you know, we're all getting older". Are you kidding me? I didn't sleep well because The Spouse was snoring. It had nothing to do with my age. Sheesh.)

Here's the thing about people like that: they are old. Aging is inevitable. In fact, we start doing it the second we are born and we don't stop until we drop dead. So it's hardly news. But I firmly believe that the condition of "being old" is 90% mental. If you decide to ascribe to the tyranny of numbers, if you think that getting older means an inevitable decline in all faculties, mental and physical then congratulations, you are old.

My mom and I are hitting "speed bump" birthdays in a couple years. I'll be 50 and she'll be 70. I emailed her about the two of us going off somewhere to celebrate that year. Her first response was, "Are you sure those numbers are right?" Because, you see, I don't think either of us thinks of ourself as being the age we are. There was a time when 50 seemed really old. So did 70. But whatever I thought those ages looked like, they aren't the reality. Sure, there are a few more wrinkles. Mostly laugh lines. That's a good thing. There is a decided effort on the part of gravity to adjust some of my former pertness, but that's why God invented Victoria's Secret. As for "the change", I've been lucky and I admit it. I seem to be sailing through pretty easily and all I can think about are the advantages of no longer being fertile (The Child's persistent desire to be an older sister notwithstanding). But I have more self-confidence, more energy and even more wisdom now than I did 20 years ago when I had a skinny little waif body. And The Spouse still thinks I look good in jeans, so there.

All I'm saying is that "old" is in your head and you can either focus on the inevitable and mourn what was or you can embrace each new day as another gift from God. That said, my back is still killing me and I will make mention of it because I'd like a little sympathy over here, please. There is a hot water bottle calling my name.