Friday, December 7, 2012

Crushed Fantasy

I have been using anti-aging creams since I was in college. They didn't work. I still aged. Albeit with softer skin, but I still turned 50 ... um ... 52.

Getting older is the best thing because if you're not getting older you're either dead or a vampire, which I guess, technically, is dead, too, but they have better housing options.

If you look closely at my hair, you'll find a few gray ones popping out occasionally. Depends on how long it has been since my last trip to the hair color aisle at Target. I've had brief thoughts of just letting the gray come out and not fussing about it, just to see how gray I would get. Did I mention they were brief?

I'll admit that I smile whenever a high school classmate tells me how I look the same as I did when we were in high school (sans the Farrah hair). When a classmate doesn't recognize me, I usually write it off to their poor memory.

This week, I've had to give up my non-aging fantasy as the one, hard truth of aging was staring me in the face. Specifically, they were "on" my face.

I had to get my first pair of glasses with bifocals. In the spirit of full disclosure, I could have had bifocals for the last ten years, but I found ways to cheat. Regrettably, my ability to cheat finally came to an end as I determined wearing two pairs of glasses at the same time is just plain weird.

The new glasses have the progressive lenses, which isn't just one distance or the other. Different parts of the lens give you long, mid and close-up vision. It just take awhile to figure out where that part of the lens exists.

Until then, I will resemble a bobblehead as I continually adjust the position of my head to find that visionary sweetspot.

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