These days, I find myself peeking warily over the threshold wondering what’s up next? What unexpected change will manifest itself, and where will it happen? It might be something as benign as the plate tectonic-shift in my teeth that leaves particles of food trapped between the cuspids, or as annoying as that occasional dull ache and clicking combo in in the knees. Could it be the sign of eroding cartilage? Is a knee replacement in my future?
There are other slight affronts I notice as I take an inventory on my skin, my hair, even my strength. Nothing seems the way it used to be; the way I thought it was supposed to be. It seems the only thing I can count on is continual body metamorphosis, and probably way more quickly than ever.
Yes, yes I know I can fight it with diet and exercise, good thoughts, Botox, face lifts and serums, but eventually it will happen – I’ll be “old.” In the meantime, I am not prepared for the next onslaught of change, but it doesn’t matter because there is no escaping it. Age is all about change – unexpected, unpredictable, and too frequently, unwanted. Amidst all these “Debbie Downer” musings, I realized the word “age” is embedded in the word “chAnGE.” Obviously, the entire aging process is simply a sophisticated linguistic joke.