Unpolishedly Aging: What I Thought When I Was Younger vs. What I Know Now That I’m Older

Aging. I know, it’s worse than a curse word. It sucks, huh? Big time.

Fucking aging, you suck!

Aging gracefully unpolishedly or not, how does the older version of ourselves now hold a candle to our once younger version? Aesthetically speaking only I ask you. No need to answer. Please refer to line one of this blog.

Fucking aging, you suck!

Can you imagine how different our inner voice  would sound if we had listened to the wisdom of those older and wiser than us when we were younger? Imagine how much time and energy we could have saved; not to mention hours in therapy now.

How many times have we all said, “If I only knew then what I know now?” A lot right? More than a lot actually. There’s probably about a zillion instances where the shoe fits. Well, unless your foot has swelled due to age and in that case, the shoe doesn’t really fit anymore; along with the size 00 leather pants you’ve been holding onto since 2001 in the hopes you’ll squeeze your ass back into them to wear to your thirtieth year High School reunion. The unpolished reality is you’ll never fit into them again but you secretly hope you ‘accidentally’ eat romaine lettuce after an E. coli outbreak that happens to coincide a week before the reunion in which you thankfully don’t die, but instead you [even more thankfully] lose a quick seven pounds after an intermittent combination of vomiting and diarrhea. Miraculously, you’re now a lean, mean, svelte machine who can party like it’s 1999.

Obviously we can’t go backwards but it’s always better late than never to effectuate the knowledge we should have been more open to when we were younger!

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When I was younger:

I thought it was cool to go to the beach for hours on end, lather my body in oil and bathe my fair skinned complexion under the sun. Despite the fact my parents practically forbade me to do so because they knew of the harmful effects, when I was younger I thought it didn’t matter so I did it anyway. When I was younger I thought if we went away for the second week of winter break as opposed to the first week it would be better because it would mean less time for my tan to fade. I wanted to look as dark as possible when I went back to school. Who didn’t, right? How many times did you compare arm to arm with your other rocket scientist friends to see who was tanner? How many times did you lift your shirt up to see which brain surgeon’s stomach was darker as if there was a prize to win? Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the tannest of them all? Now that I’m older, ya know what I think? I think I know I’m a fucking moron. Now that I’m older I know you’d have to be legally insane to willingly sit outside with oil lathered on your bare body. Unless of course you’re looking for a death sentence. Hey Cancer, here I am. Melanoma, come and get me. God forbid. If I knew (aka listened) then to what I know now, not only would I not panic four times a year when my dermatologist does a thorough body scan as I hold my breath until he says I’m clear of any suspicious findings but I’d also spend a lot less money trying to reverse the ugly aging side effects sun damage can does cause.

Knock Knock.

Who’s There?

Vanity.

Vanity Who?

Vanity [Un]fair to those who are dumb enough to sit in the sun.

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When I was younger:

I thought the expression ‘pee in my pants’ was just that, an expression. A cautionary tale of sorts. Little did I know now that I’m older it’s not an expression or tale at all; it’s a bonafide action verb phrase of fact! Peeing in your pants isn’t just something you say as an addendum to a story you’re telling about how hard you laughed. What I know now that I’m older is peeing in your pants is a real thing and we wish it only happened when laughing! When I was younger never did I think when I was older I would stash an extra thong in my pocketbook or hide another pair in an office drawer. Now that I’m older I know keeping a spare Hanky Panky an arm’s length away is being smart, not sassy! Do you really want to walk around all day with a tiny wet spot in your underwear? I thought not!

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I unpolishedly swear when I was younger:

I thought the line, ‘not by the hair of my chinny chin chin’ was gibberish. I unpolishedly swear when I was younger I had no idea what it meant other than thinking it was make-believe jargon you only read in childhood fables on par with ‘abracadabra.’ I unpolishedly swear when I was younger I thought the line, ‘not by the hair of my chinny chin chin’ was only spoken by some old lady who simultaneously swatted her pointer finger back and forth and likely was the same old lady who might have lived in a shoe or was related to three little fictitious pigs. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy! Don’t I know now that I’m older how wrong my thoughts when I was younger were! Let’s just say, spare pairs of tweezers are tucked away with my spare pairs of panties. Tweezers are an unpolished mandate!

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When I was younger:

I thought the only substitute for being barefoot was rocking high-heeled shoes. When I was younger I thought those were the only two suitable options. All or none; feast or famine. That’s how I [st]rolled! Now that I’m older, it’s still the only way I [st]roll with the exception for what I know relative to the consequences. When I was younger I knew there’d be no physical downtime associated with wearing heels. Stilettos day in and day out were not a problem. Now that I’m older however, I seem to think there’ll be no physical downtime but unpolishedly, I’m always wrong! Now that I’m older, it takes me several days for my poor feet to recover after a night of wearing heels. Now that I’m older, I know if I want the pleasure of rocking the heels, it doesn’t come without the consequence of pain. Now that I’m older, high-heeled shoes should really be called sigh-feeled shoes!

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When I was younger:

I was told elephants never forget. When I was younger, I thought I had the memory of an elephant. I forgot nothing.You wanna know the name of the restaurant we ate at once in the late 90’s on vacation? I knew it. You need the address of the place where the guy gets you the thing you can’t find unless you know the other guy who knows the girl who’s married to the guy who can get you the thing? I’m on it. Your best friend asks who the person was she slept with freshmen year of college who was related to so and so’s uncle’s cousin’s neighbor who we ran into while on Spring Break in Cancun? Ask me, cuz back then, I remembered. Vividly. My memory was that of an elephant! Now that I’m older…. wait, what are we talking about? Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. Do I know you? Where am I? No really, what were we just talking about? Seriously though, now that I’m older, I know my memory needs to be preserved. I’m forgetful. Actually, I’m more than forgetful. I’m forgetting most things. While I’m in mid-sentence I don’t remember what I’m mid-sentencing about. Is that a problem or is that what happens when you get older? When I was younger I think I never asked those kind of questions. Now that I’m older, I know I’m asking those kind of questions. At least I remember that I don’t remember. That’s gotta count for something.

 

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When I was younger:

I thought I could see. I thought I could see because I could. My vision was fine and I could see everything. Stop signs. Computer screens. Lunch menus. Family members who were birthed from my vagina.Now that I’m older well, let’s just cut to the chase. I know I can’t see. I can’t see anything. I’m blind as a fucking bat. My glasses need glasses. I can’t see far. I can’t see near. My own children are unrecognizable unless they are three feet in front of me breathing down my neck asking for food or money or a new iPhone. It’s an unpolished mess. People in my world call me Mr. Magoo. When I’m out with friends the conversation has dramatically shifted. We no longer talk about anything sexy; unless it’s sexy to focus on the topic of who’s got the most fashionable readers and where to buy them. I guarantee you, when I was younger I never thought when I was older discussions about eyeglasses would be the dinner conversation entrée! How pathetic. Since I can’t see anyway, can someone please stick a needle in my [blind]eye?

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW…. Down the road in the years to come, our current older selves will technically turn into our future younger selves of what our future older selves know what it once thought. Huh? My current self thinks that makes perfect sense but knows in several years from now I won’t have a clue what the hell I’m thinking about knowing I think I know. What? Huh? Right? Help! Fucking aging, you suck!