I need more long sleeve shirts. This was yesterday’s hideous conclusion to the growing problem that is me growing old. Life is playing a horrible trick on me lately and there seems to have been some sort of screw up in the casting session for the part of Heidi Clements – second half of her life role. I feel like the person the universe has chosen to play me is too old. While my brain is clearly reading the lines of a 23 year old, my body is acting out the part of a 93 year old. I want to recast this shit show but I don’t know who to call.
Everyday I mentally regress more. This may have something to with the fact that I’ve been hanging out with some young people, smoking pot, staying up to late, and going places I shouldn’t be caught dead in – and in fact – probably seem close to dead to the strangers around me. “Who’s that old lady and why is she here?” While most people my age are discovering the mellower part of life – chilling at home – buying new slippers – falling asleep at 8 – giving up – I’m out there trying to perform my second act – and I’m worried the curtain’s going to come crashing down on my head and I’ll break something trying to run from it.
I’m discovering there are quite a few problems to staying young – first and foremost – the two m’s: Mirrors and Menopause. It took me three hours to get dressed to go out the other night. My bedroom looked like a fabric graveyard with scads of dresses, skirts and pants heaped in a pile on the floor. It appears I’m gaining weight by eating air. If I cut out any more calories I’ll have to start giving food back. Nothing fits. I went on a three day juice and seaweed diet and gained four pounds. I don’t know who developed that steering wheel thingy on “Lost” that moved the island but I could sure use one of those inside my body to move it back to around 35. Where did all this cellulite come from? I’ve already switched from sleeveless shirts to t shirts. I’m careening towards three quarter sleeves and I know long sleeves are not far behind. What’s next? A body bag with a belt? I keep staring at the sleeveless shirts in my closet and thinking – I should just break up with them already but I feel badly because it’s not their fault we no longer get along – it’s me – I’ve changed. Am I suddenly at that point in life where I have to start giving up on certain clothing items? I’ve already dumped my above the knee skirts. I think they’re still mad at me. We had a great relationship. If I wake up tomorrow and can’t wear my high heeled shoes – I may just call it quits. I have definitely stopped looking in the mirror less but every once in a while I catch a glimpse of myself and think – why God why? I’m starting to understand the allure of plastic surgery but the results are still not good enough for me to do it. I still have a weird left boob and that was elective surgery.
The other problem with my growing love of growing younger is – my inner old lady sneaks up on me sometimes at the worst possible moments. Case in point – the other night I went to a club with my friend JL to see another friend Chelsea sing. As we each passed the bouncer screening for ID’s – everyone was stopped – except me – whom he just looked at and pathetically waved in. Now this isn’t the first time I haven’t had to show my age and I was fine with it until one of the other people we were with said “heidi the guy wants you to go back and show your ID” and as I turned to go back he said “Kidding!” I almost murdered him. I still may. I recovered and went inside but after I finished having a lovely conversation with Chelsea – I turned and discovered JL was gone. Oh shit. I was lost in a sea of people and I didn’t have my phone to text him because my senile brain left it in the car. Now what. I spent twenty minutes wandering through hundreds upon hundreds of young people. They were staring at me. I could tell. What’s with the creepy lady? Oh god this is awful. What should I do? I guess I could leave. I could hide in the bathroom. Should I wait outside? Is there a middle aged lost and found somewhere – where other young people go to pick up the losers they had to come with and lost? And suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder. “Where the fuck have you been.” It was JL. I could have hugged him. He’s a saint. He actually came looking for his grandma while most others wouldn’t even have noticed. On our way out we had to walk down a giant flight of stairs and I looked at him and thought – our friendship is going to end when I take a header down a flight of stairs like this and break a hip. You may love me now but theres no way you’re going to want to ride in the back of the ambulance for this one.
I want to hang out with the cool kids but I’m coming dangerously close to responding to those AARP ads. I don’t want to actually be younger because I so enjoy where my brain is right now. I just wish I could shove it in a younger body. This is what’s wrong with the life we live. We should start out as physical old people with baby brains and as our brains get older our bodies should get younger. Can somebody start working on this please? I have a sleeveless leather dress I really want to wear.
Don’t forget your labor day reading!!