I have just discovered the single worst part about getting older. It’s not the fact that everything drops and soon I can tuck my boobs in my ankle socks – though that sucks. It’s not the bizarre hair growing in weird places – though that is unfortunate. It’s not that everything seems too loud to you – though that is annoying. It’s not the complete inability to lose ten pounds no matter how much you starve yourself – though that is super frustrating. It’s not the fact that I can no longer sleep, have to smoke pot to get to sleep, then eat so much in bed that I have to vacuum my sheets everyday – though that struggle is very real. And it’s not even the fact that I’m becoming increasingly irrelevant on a daily basis – though that is – somewhat comforting at times – and I may actually be looking forward to complete invisibility. No, all of these things pale in comparison to the one thing I can no longer handle. Horror Movies. Yes, the greatest joy of my life has quietly been ripped out of my hands – never to return again – the joy of watching a really creepy movie. Somehow overnight I have gone from a person who loves a scary movie more than anything to a person who has to turn the television off when a commercial for a scary movie comes on because it sets off such a chain reaction of paranoia and fear that I can’t go to bed at night. Just the other day the trailer for Poltergeist came on and I mistakenly looked through my fingers at the very end and caught a glimpse of a child being flung backwards up a set of steps. That was it for me. I had to check under every bed, and inside every closet before I went to sleep. And let me tell you – that’s a lot of closets. I don’t know why the fear factor goes up as we get older but there is something in my brain that has stopped computing the concept of “this isn’t real” and the blood curdling images that used to bring me so much joy are now a very real possibility of giving me a heart attack. Yes, the worst realization of me getting older is – I can’t handle a horror flick and it is officially the saddest day of my life. I will never again be able to watch Saw 16 or Insidious 27. I can’t be first in line to freak out over Paranormal Activity 16. No – my finger nails will never again grip the seat or the thigh of the person next to me. Why I ask you oh gods of aging why! What is happening to my older mind and why couldn’t it develop a problem with reality tv? I could say goodbye to the Housewives easier than I can to Freddie Kruger. I told my friend Brian about my dilemma hoping that he would just laugh at me and tell me to get over it and get back on the scary saddle but he just looked at me and said – “I get it and you know what’s next? We’re afraid to drive.” Fuck. My. Life.