Today, as a public service to youngsters facing their sixth
decade on the planet, I offer “terms to know” from the perspective of a woman
approaching (gulp) sixty.
Sciatica—Unfortunately,
this word doesn’t become clear until you experience it in a very visceral way.
Up until then, it’s just some vague area of the body. Like a muscle, maybe. Or
something to do with the lower back or leg. But trust me on this, when you feel
the pain, you’ll say, “Ah! Sciatica!”
Limit—As in
two-drink limit. I don’t know about you, but I used to be able to slam cocktails into the wee small hours, never bothering to count. But somewhere in
my 50’s, I morphed into one of those people who practically has to call in sick after three measly glasses
of wine.
AARP—The
folks behind this outfit are truly evil. Somehow (they must have tapped into
the Social Security Administration database), they get your name and begin
stuffing your mailbox with hurtful harbingers of old age while you’re still in
your relatively youthful forties. Shame on these people. Give us time to get
there, will ya?
Incontinence—Okay,
I’m not admitting personal knowledge of this one. Suffice to say my friends
who’ve had children complain they can’t laugh, sneeze, or cough with any degree
of confidence these days.
As long as we’re on the “in” words, here’s another one:
Insomnia (and its pals Tylenol PM, Ambien, etc.). Remember how you hated
naptime in Kindergarten? Well, let me tell ya, when you reach your 50’s you’d
pay good money for an uninterrupted night of sleep.
Caregiver, assisted living, Hospice, 911—These are a group of terms you’ll
need to acquaint yourself with when it comes to your parents. Ugh. Sad, but
true.
“Readers”—what
you’ll buy at Rite-Aid when the small print isn’t really so small after all. It’s your SIGHT that’s gone to hell.
Pain—Yeah,
get used to it. I don’t care how fit or healthy you are, SOMETHING in your
body’s gonna ache or hurt. And nine times out of ten, it’ll be unexplainable
and vague.
Rogue—as in
hair. Rogue hair. The kind that sprouts up on your chin, neck, or eyebrows (for
the men, we’re talking EARS—euw).
While you’re at it, you can ditch the word “razor” because more and more, you
won’t need one. Yes, God deletes the hair on your legs (and under your arms)
and sticks it in the aforementioned chin, neck and eyebrows. Go figure. I guess
he’s got a real sense of humor, that God. By the way, put on your READERS and
check it out if you don’t believe me.
One inch—the
maximum allowable heel height for dress-up—assuming,
you still dress up 'cuz that ship has pretty much sailed.
Grey—and
we’re not talking fifty shades of—we’re
talking the color of your hair, both the stuff on your head and the stuff,
y’know, down there. (Again, let the record show I have no personal knowledge of
this yet.)
Finally, I’ll leave you with one last word to get chummy
with in your 50’s:
Colonoscopy.
Need I say more?
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