THE OLD MAN IN THE MIRROR

Old age is a shock. To discover over and over again that I am old rattles me to my core every freaking day. As well as I can remember, the first time I realized I was old was when I looked in the mirror and saw an old man’s face completely unfamiliar to me. My femininity had flown out the window sometime during the night. I miss it. 

The next shocker came when I suddenly realized I had become invisible to the majority of humanity. Maybe indifference is more applicable. Think about it. People tend to pity old people, some even mock oldsters. I’ve done my fair share. In my limited experience I notice many, many people find little of value in someone who in their opinion has passed their expiration date. Like a quart of milk in the fridge that can’t be thrown out until the smell is unbearable. 

I don’t mind talking about dying. I’ve noticed though that folks freak the fuck out at the mere mention of the word death. I practice thinking about death as the ultimate great adventure. I’m scared as hell, but life continues to scare the shit out of me each and every day so it doesn’t seem that different.


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