At Your Age…



I knew I should have just popped a couple of vitamins and spent the money on a trip to the spa.

By the time I got done with my annual doctor’s appointment, I was ready for the psychiatrist and an arsenal of Valium. I figure that’s easier than having a knee replacement, hiring a personal trainer, or trying to forge the date on my birth certificate.

For the last five years, every doctor I’ve visited, for whatever reason, has used a line like: “Well Karen, you’re not getting any younger you know.” Or, “Now you know, at your age…”

Somehow hearing that disclaimer from a middle-aged, balding doctor is a little easier than when it comes from a brace-faced, perky, thin thing who couldn’t possibly be old enough to drive let alone practice medicine. She wouldn’t know a stretch mark or ripple of cellulite if it wrapped itself around her unflabby upper arms.

Regardless of my concern; the answer starts out the same.

Doctor, my hair seems to be falling out. “Well, at your age you have to expect some recycling.”

I can’t seem to lose this last 10 pounds. “At your age things tend to slow down a bit. You need to start walking.”

I’ve noticed my heart racing lately. “Women your age tend to notice that.”

My car makes a funny noise in the mornings. “That can happen once you hit the thirties.”

I’m out of breath easily. “At your age you need to start exercising more to strengthen your heart.”

But I’m not as flexible as I used to be. “As we get older we mustn’t forget to stretch.”

I can’t eat ice cream like I used to; it doesn’t agree with me. “You’ll find as you age that will happen more often. Keep some antacids on hand.”

My dog doesn’t listen like he used to. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. Get down to his level and pet him more. It’s good therapy.”

My knees are starting to make noises. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

My skin is blotchy. “That’s common for women your age. Wear sunscreen when you walk.”

My kids are starting to roll their eyes and mutter behind my back. “At your age you should expect that.”

My clothes don’t fit like they used to but the scale reads the same. “After a certain age things tend to shift a bit.”

I walked out feeling like a piece of baggage in the overhead compartment. I stopped on the way home and bought new walking shoes, a jumbo jar of antacid and a half-gallon of double mocha coffee fudge.

At my age, I deserve it.

Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)

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