One of the primary functions of this blog is to keep my mother up-to-date on the goings-on in my life. With nine children (because Gracey asked how many Gingerbreads there were - stacks, my dear, there are stacks of us), she has a hard time trying to keep tabs on our comings and goings. Bloggerdom helps her track our misdemeanors more efficiently.
Anyway - Mammy: I went to the optician and my eyes are getting better.
That is the essence of this post. My eyesight was getting progressively worse with each passing year, but this visit to the optician turned up an astonishing result: now my eyesight is suddenly improving. I was squirming in joy in the optician's chair, happy to know that I wouldn't end up with bi-focals as thick as jam-jar bottoms, when Ms Optician effectively burst my bubble by telling me that it might be the first signs of presbyopia - age-related far-sightedness. I was outraged - outraged, I tell you. Well, I was on the inside; outside I just meekly said, "Oh, really?"
I'm 35 and three-quarters. And leaving the optician's - actually, as I reeled out the door in shock - it occured to me that I have now tipped the scales on my thirties and am sliding towards forty. FORTY! I thought forty happened to other people, certainly not to me. I went home to share the sad news with my husband ("My darling, I fear it is my duty to tell you that we are aging"), who gallantly allowed me to feel better by giving me permission to count his grey hairs (eleven, of which nine were allegedly my doing.) It does not help that Mr G and I celebrated our eight-year anniversary this week. Rather than do anything celebratory, we spent the day shaking our heads at one another and saying things like, "Where did the last eight years go?" We kind of feel like people who were mugged by Father Time. He shook us up and robbed our wallets. At gunpoint. At least, that's how it feels.
P.S. when I went back to the optician today, she asked me if I'd had thyroid issues around the time I got my last glasses. Yes, actually, I had. It turns out that that may have had more to do with the spike in my vision than the fact that I am currently hurtling towards senior citizenship at breakneck speed. I feel slightly mollified, but only very slightly. I won't order the zimmerframe just yet, then.
6 comments:
Oh, don't fret about the age thing as there is nothing you can do about it except embrace it. I've hit 52 and believe me I am happier than I have ever been...truly. So, make the most of life, don't sweat the small stuff and enjoy yourself and don't abuse your body with all of the stuff we all know about, to excess anyway. Be kind to others and stay away from the ones you know you should and help out your family and friends when you can. You've heard it all before. I still feel young and sometimes have to remind myself of my age so it is definitely a state of mind. Go hug your other half and assure him it's not all that bad, really!
Loved your post! lol. Forty isn't bad, I'm there (somewhere in the middle). I totally agree with Clara also. Big smile and be happy! :-)
HA HA! I just celebrated my forty-ninth birthday, and I think what hits me most is how irresponsible I still am. I mean, shouldn't I have matured by now? LOL! I still FEEL like a teenage girl.... (((((HUGS))))) sandi
Keeping mothers in touch is the hidden function of blogs everywhere and certainly of mine, I hope yours isn't quite as stern a critic as mine is. Who knew she would have so many opinions about such random things? But I digress. I'm 35 and eleven twelfths and yes, the 40 thing is traumatic. We'll feel better when we're there and it's over. ;-)
My eyes have deteriorated a lot over the last few years (age and illness related) - bah! I wish they would get better!
Age, yep, nothing to do about it as the alternative it to stop now and we have far too many good things to do for a while yet and the beauty of ageing is that there are still so many more things to discover about life - that is why we get wiser!
Too funny! And you read me! I'm always shocked when that happens...I went to the eye doc last week and she insisted that I need reading glasses over my contact lenses. I refused! I am 42, but way too young for reading glasses! It's bad enough I have to wear glasses. She told me to call her when I get over my delusions..LOL (Oh and Mom was 4 in a family of 9, dad 3 in 7 and stepdad 2 in 7, so I know big families) Just my brother and I, but I have 2 halves and 5 steps all mixed in there.....
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