As the youngest of eight children, I do know I'm still considered about age three to many of my siblings, so that helps soften the blow.
Nonetheless, the clock is ticking. It's no secret that the human body weakens or just plain deteriorates with age, and mine is no exception. Earlier this week my kids and I spent a gorgeous day at the river. The college-age population was well represented, however, so I had the
Meanwhile, the squishy-ness of my own body has reached disturbing proportions. But then again, I'm not afraid to eat. I don't care how cute ya are.
What's bumming me out the most is that as I join the 40s club (there is a club, right? I'm expecting some membership perks, so there better be a club.) is that I'm already heading to a doctor because I'm falling apart.
Here's the deal: I've been coughing since the beginning of March. I caught a cold. I got over the cold. But Mr. Cough didn't care to leave me. He's like a leach.
So I broke down and finally went to the doctor this week. He gave me some medicine and then told me if I wasn't better by Monday, to get an appointment with a lung specialist.
Just what I want to hear as I hit a milestone birthday. I knew my body would sag and the knees would creak, but I didn't expect to have vital organs falling apart. I like my lungs. I'm sorta attached. I'd hate to have something bad happen to them.
So I ring in the ol' 4-0 spewing birthday cake from my mouth as I am coughing. But I'm pretty sure when you're old you get away with a lot of stuff.
And least that's what I'm banking on.
So here's to the big 4-0, and crumbs in your eye! Cheers!