I have a pretty big birthday coming up. As someone who has fiercely protected my “number” for so long, I’m not going to say it out loud or write it down just yet.
But it’s there. Looming in the distance like the smoke clouds of a California wildfire. The more I think about it, the more stifled, and choked I feel.
Why is this birthday so scary? Millions of people have crossed over to the other side of this number and are still alive aren’t they? AREN’T THEY??
It’s not that I’m afraid of dying, because I totally am. I’m more afraid of the years of deterioration my body will endure as I get closer to dying. I’m particularly worried about my knees giving out under the extreme day-to-day pressure I put them under…my body pounding away on them like a jack hammer on a pencil.
Then there’s my eyes…already so bad I can barely see to write this post. Chris tells me I should wear my glasses all the time now because I can’t see things like road signs, or people. Pshaw. How often do I really need to see those two things at the same time?
My flaps. All of them. Arm flaps. Thigh flaps. And belly flaps. They’re all going to start sagging farther, and farther towards the earth, begging to go back where they came from.
Pretty sure my face will still be gorgeous. I mean, really.
But what about my insides? I can’t stop thinking about all of the years and years of abusive things I’ve done to my body. From late night cheese fries covered in ranch dressing, to the copious amounts of alcohol over the past 20 years that could make my middle name Distillery.
Will my intestines stop processing foods and I’ll just poop my pants? Will my nervous system start spazzing out of control, or give out while I try to do the simplest task? How much more salt and preservatives can my poor heart take before it says, fuck you lady I’m done!
My hair is already falling out like I’ve had 3 rounds of chemo, so how could that get any worse?
These are all thoughts that creep in and out of my mind as I approach this last, and final birthday. No one will ever think I’m sexy. I can’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it will be sad. I have to moisturize everyday, without fail and start taking a good multivitamin like Centrum Silver.
If I seem off over the next few months, and beyond, now you know why. You don’t really know why, but you know why.
Now please excuse me while I start planning the best/worst birthday party of my life and hope to God my body doesn’t give out on me before it’s done.
