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A Well-Marbled Ribeye

February 9, 2010

My mother called me on my birthday (January) to state the obvious and also a few other prime observations.

“I got to thinking,” she mused, giggling, “that all of my children are now older than everyone who works in my office!”


I mean, AWESOME. “That’s…uh…great, Mom.”

“Not that you’re old or anything. That’ll come in around five years, on your fortieth.” If forty makes me old, I wondered idly, what did that make her? Methuselah? Than Hills?  (I love you, Mom…) “I remember when I had my fortieth. Carl threw me a surprise party, complete with a real casket.”

Jeepers, Mom. Really not feeling better, because if there’s anything I’ve learned since hitting thirty, it’s how fast five years speeds by.

“A casket?”

“He filled it with all of that ‘over the hill’ junk—“

“As in a coffin? You know—the thing they BURY you in? As in…one foot in the grave?”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are getting older…”

Don’t I know it. I’m seeing a few fine lines around my eyes, if I squint. Okay, even if I don’t squint. My brain is screaming for gingko. My hair is saying, it’s about time for some blonde enhancement. My butt is saying, my, that floor looks a lot closer than it used to. I’m sure if I could see them, I’d witness my ovaries shriveling in biologically-induced panic. I was listening to the Delilah (Dee-Liiiiiiii-Luh…) tonight on the radio as I drove home from tumbling practice and “Landslide” came on. “…can I handle the seasons…of my life…” Fleetwood Mac sang. Was there ever a better question for growing older?

It’s past the time where I can ignore the fact that I am, in fact, aging at the speed of Dennis Leary’s speech patterns. But that’s okay (she says inaudibly through the paper bag she’s busy hyperventilating into). I’m aging well, I think, like cheese or something. Although, as Billie Burke said, “age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are cheese,” so maybe that’s not the best comparison. Wine is just so overdone. And steak is…well…meat.

I’m aging well. Like a fine cut of well-marbled…ribeye.

Nah. Just doesn’t have quite the right ring to it.

I’m aging well.

If I keep saying it, I’ll believe it. Maybe.

11 Comments leave one →
  1. February 9, 2010 11:11 am

    (Laughing. Laughing.) I was having a similiar conversation with my friend as she cut my hair the other day and she discovered the huge zit on my forehead I had cleverly hid behind my bangs until she had to wash them. We decided God must really like to test us since we still have to deal with acne while starting to deal with gray hair and wrinkles too. And please someone tell me why since we have to bear the children and gain those lovely and not-so-lovely pregnancy pounds why is it so hard for us to lose them?
    Oh, listen to me rant and complain…Sorry! I never considered myself vain, but maybe I am. So be it cheese, wine, or even a slab of meat, I’ll take it, as long as it means I’m aging gracefully.

  2. February 9, 2010 2:50 pm

    Grace I have never been. This whole aging thing is like a drunk who hides his drink in a brown paper bag. The only one he’s fooling is himself. That’s me! I’m a drunk. I act like I’m 12 and keep telling myself I’m not aging or getting old. I tell myself this enough times and I start to believe it……until I look in the mirror and realize the only one I’m fooling is myself…..acting the part of the fool. 😀

    If I were you. I wouldn’t worry. You look absolutely beautiful to me. Age has been kind to you.

  3. February 9, 2010 9:28 pm

    Back when I was your age, I would wonder what the heck my mother was talking about when she complained about her aches and pains. Now that I am almost 50, I understand. Give it time, you’ll see the humor of your mother. Besides it better to see the humor, than to think that my life is more than half over….

  4. February 10, 2010 11:16 pm

    I guess you could always remind her that you are 20+ years younger than she is…

  5. Anaise permalink
    February 11, 2010 8:58 am

    You’re younger than I am . . . and if your picture is an accurate reflection of what you really look like, you are lovely.

    But what a conversation!!!!

    I’m realizing that 40 is so much younger than I thought it was when I was 20.

  6. February 11, 2010 2:25 pm

    “Oh, to be 35 again” is what I was thinking when I read your post (sorry, I’m behind in cybersurfing this month) – I will be 48 in a few weeks myself, and I know the ‘grief process’ we go thru as we begin to realize we are, as you so aptly put, “aging at the speed of Dennis Leary’s speech patterns” (LOVE that, by the way!) – Sigh, I wish I could say something that will comfort you or ease your pain of the awareness that you are aging. All I can say is that I’ll forge the path ahead of you and we’ll do it with grace together, sister!
    By the way, I use Avon’s Anew Clinical for wrinkles. I’m not going down without a huge fight! 😉

  7. Lori permalink*
    February 11, 2010 5:49 pm

    Natalie–oh, my favorite rants! Post-puberty zits and pregnancy pounds! It’s just not fair! 😉

    Rachel–right there in the paper bag with you–still acting like a kid and loving it. Thanks for that compliment. You’re pretty gawgeous yourself.

    Bonnie–don’t worry, I see how funny she is more and more. Love her blind. And oh, mercy—let’s not think of that other alternative!

    J–HAHAHAHA! This is true, my wicked friend…

    Anaise–thank you! Digital editing does wonders 😉 . And isn’t is always that the next “plateau” doesn’t seem so bad once we get there? Let that be a lesson to the younguns.

    Cee–Hmm–I’m thinking you look pretty good…maybe I’ll start using that Anew, myself. Or maybe I’ll just start washing my face at night and using eye cream like I’m supposed to do…

  8. February 13, 2010 1:18 am

    You know, I think these conversations with our mothers are inevitable. I was chatting with my Mom in her store and friend of hers came in and couldn’t believe that I was her “grown” daughter. When he asked me how old I was, my Mom said, “Look around her eyes, you can REALLY see her age there.”

    I think it helps us keep our sense of humor about it though, otherwise, I might cry!!!

  9. Lori permalink*
    February 14, 2010 12:25 pm

    BWAHAHAHAHAHA! That is hilarious! Jeez…gotta love our moms. 😉

  10. Lesley Thompson permalink
    February 14, 2010 2:20 pm

    OH!! MY girl! I LOVE YOU!!! One day you will reach that beautiful age of “maturity”, (as in olderrrrr), when you can get by with saying just about anything and get by with it. You will always be my beautiful (I REALLY mean it), young girl. Looking forward to age is an option AND aging is a privalege. Just look at Grandma. They don’t get anymore beautiful than that!! Great analagy!

  11. Lori permalink*
    February 14, 2010 8:03 pm

    Aw, thanks, Mom! And you’re right about Grandma. What a hoot. 🙂

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