Mind, body and age

I was lying there thinking that I should move my bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water closer to my bed.  Yikes, everything hurt on Monday morning.

I swear that I heard creaks as I moved my knees from the mattress to a semi-upright stance.  “Walk it off,” my mind said as my mouth made other, less ameliorative sounds.

I’m getting old. Scratch that. I am officially old.

But wait!

Do I have to use that pejorative word? Old has a boatload of negative connotations such as those used by TV personalities who evaluate one’s clothing.

The opposite of stunning attire is unfortunately, “looks like grandma’s” as if grandma was wearing something akin to a shroud. Old also is used to describe something that has been done too often as in, “That song is getting old.”

Other synonyms and phrases for old are outmoded, useless, past its prime, worn out, timeworn and the dreaded outdated — you know, like formica countertops.

Let’s face it, the opposite of young, which has overwhelmingly good vibes, is old, which does not.

So, what adjective can describe the age and substance of those of my ilk?  Yeah, I know, who uses the word ilk? I’ve used it here because I had to look it up in 1958. My high school English teacher used it when he signed my yearbook. It’s mine to use and this is the first time I’ve had the opportunity.

This whole issue came up at the checkout at Wegman’s the other day. The cashier was scanning my groceries when she came to a box of Alka-Seltzer Plus cold medicine.

“I have to see your driver’s license,” she said.

Apparently, Wegman’s computers think that there is alcohol in these fizzy tabs … “You can’t tell that I am older than 21, I joked?”

She smiled, shrugged her shoulders. She noted as she typed in my ID that she was a year older than I and then, despite the line forming behind me, we spent a minute or two discussing the usage of the word old.

Neither of us thought that it adequately captured who we were. We speculated on substitutes such as “vintage” practiced, seasoned, accomplished, mature, not settling on any, mostly because of the anxious grumblings emanating from the elderly gentleman standing behind me in line.

Apropos of fashion, I do find that looser clothing is becoming more appealing as are shoes that, despite their resemblance to WW II landing craft, are comfortable.

I do appreciate beautiful shoes and more form fitting fashionable clothing and walking through the woods, though Lord knows, none of those things are viable options for me right now.

I need to lose more weight, especially the several sneaky pounds that attached themselves to my body over the past three weeks (having absolutely nothing to do with the excess of Italian Cookies that we didn’t know what to do with).

I need to move more while taking care of  my new hip and shake off what just maybe the plague that has sent me seeking comfort food  as well as industrial strength chicken soup. And, I do need to go through my closet and wash the woodwork in the kitchen and … a long list.

In the meantime I will carefully enjoy my low point baked goods, spend time taping my toes and stocking up on ibuprofen.  You have to make choices.

I guess, on the calendar, I am officially old, and, yes there are Methuselah days when I feel a lot older but the world is not, as the song says, “getting colder.”

There are bright spots even on cloudy days and though my body is a patchwork of ills and aches, my approach to the world is positive. I can no longer ice skate or run … anywhere, lift heavy objects or sit on and get up from the floor without help, but I find joy in each day, in the people that I meet, the work that I do, the beauty of a ride in the country, an hour spent picking berries, watching Call the Midwife or Doc Martin, the laughter of my grandsons …so much.

Then there is the entry that I read and copied from my Facebook page:  “My mind says I’m 20. My body says, ‘You wish’.”