Another birthday draws nearer sucking the life out of me. It was maybe yesterday, when I was ten, wishing I could be older to do "cooler" things. Back then, my idea of "cooler" was greatly distorted... twisted and molded forms of greatness, when really I am merely twisting and molding into old age.
It is kind of depressing, but I shouldn't really complain. I mean, I am a mother, and I should get to wear some badges. I am not, however, anyone's grandmother (that just made my stomach turn... bleah). Don't get me wrong I love my grandmother, dearly, but I am not yet ready to cross over to that side of my older age.
Grandmothers are on both sides of the personality gridlines. You have the sweet, smiling, soft cuddly ones; and then there is the lanky, bitter, grouchy ones. I have been fortunate to have the most wonderful grandmothers, but I have read about type B... and have known some people to be less fortunate than myself.
I didn't come here today to trash talk anyone's grandma. Basically I just don't want to look like one. I want to put my birthdays on hold and stay the age I am... I don't want wrinkles, age spots, wiry hair... a bad back, sore feet, ANY of the ailments associated with getting older.
This is the last birthday.... day after tomorrow, I will be 33, and I am done. No more birthdays! I am going to focus on staying young"er", so if that is a new years resolution to eat sea weed 4 days a week... I will do it*.
Maybe it will teach the kiddos a lesson too... don't wish your life away. Growing up hits you on the head like an acme anvil, and by the time you shake off the stars and twittering birds you have bad skin and hairy moles.
*as long as I can still have ice cream and strawberry pez.... occasionally