Another year into this middle-age thing.
It wasn’t my birthday. But the New Year, January 1st, marks another milestone for everyone.
Typically, this time of year, I get so caught up with my job and the stresses that come with closing one year and prepping for the new year: new deductions, new taxes, new 401k amounts, it get ridiculously hard to come home and have any kind of energy left for anything. I’m exhausted, mentally, more so, than anything. Sometimes it’s difficult to make my mouth work; forming sentences, let alone certain words…. Just plain hard!
But that wasn’t exactly my point. I now have vision insurance! Boy, the things we get excited about when we get older as compared to what excited us in our younger years sure has changed. I’ve known for some time now that I’ve needed an updated prescription for my glasses. Of course I’ve been wanting new frames, too, but that has simply been a luxury I couldn’t afford. Now… it’s a reality. I’ve already had my appointment. They numbed my eyes, dilated my eyes, turned my eyes yellow, showed me green dots and blue lights and have finally concluded that I’m due for an upgrade.
Bi-focals. Or as us modern day middle-agers refer to as “Progressive Lenses”. I like that much more so than “bi-focals”. I am so psyched about getting my new glasses! You really have no idea just how thrilling this is for me. Pathetic, I know. But I will be able to see far away better. I will be able to see better when driving at night. The kids would often point out a deer that may have been standing by the road that I had no idea was there. I will be able to see my fingernails when I paint them. And my toenails. Shaving my legs in the shower!!
Totally psyched!
Another thing I’ve noticed more and more over this past year is my stomach issues. I’m denying there is anything wrong medically. I’m chalking this one up as strictly middle-age syndrome. When I get stressed about a bill or something going on in the family, I tend to … well, I tend to need the Pepto more than I’d like to admit. The new flavors of Tums are pretty good, too.
I remember being much younger and seeing my grandparents eat their dinner at 4:00 p.m. every day. I used to think they did so because they were old and had nothing else to do but to eat, watch the news and then go to bed. Little did I know…
If I eat past 6:00 p.m. I’m done for. Completely done for. My preference is to be sitting down by at least 5:00 p.m. at the dinner table, ready to go. (I’m even slightly euphoric if I can eat by 4:00 p.m. thinking to myself how much time I will have to digest everything before I go to bed.) And heck, I’ll admit, I get slightly cranky when this doesn’t happen. But only because I know how I’m going to feel later. Sleeping propped up is for the birds! Especially for someone who would much rather sleep in the fetal position. I can taste certain things for hours: garlic, cucumber, food in general when I eat late. Especially the garlic. And as Fate would have it, I married an Italian – who coincidentally puts garlic in everything!
Now don’t tell me that I shouldn’t complain because I have someone that’s willing to cook. But at my age I think I’ve earned the right. And just for the record, let’s get this right: I don’t complain about his cooking. I’m complaining about how it makes me feel. When it’s 1:00 a.m. and again at 3:00 a.m. (the two times I usually wake up every single night) and I’m suddenly wide awake with what feels and tastes like a 2-pound Italian (a.k.a. “garlic”) –style meatloaf sitting in my stomach, and my head is swimming with exhaustion and thoughts of calling in to work in the morning “please, just give me a few hours”, that’s when I’m really regretting eating that garlic-infused anything.
Here’s my theory: I’m middle-aged. I sit at a desk 8 hours a day, then come home and, I’ll be honest, I don’t do a lot of exercise, particularly this time of year. It’s dark and stupid-cold; I don’t do outside very well. Spring, Summer, Fall: hey, I’m up for the beach, a nice walk, whatever… So back to my point: I’m pretty sedentary. Sad, yes. But I do what I do, then when I get home, my insides just know. I think I’m sending pre-mature signals to my digestive system, making it think that because I want to take my make-up off and put on my sweat pants and put my hair up in a ponytail, my innards are thinking that they will do me a favor and start shutting down early in preparation for bed-time. Wait! Not yet! I need you to keep churning and burning for at least another two hours!
Too late. Stomach and intestines have stopped for the night. Great! Where’s that extra pillow? And darn those kids! They ate the rest of my Tums!
