The Cruel Hands of Time

Well, the day is here. My birthday. 34 years ago today, I took my first breath...and my first poop. Ahhh...nothing like a little potty humor to keep me feeling young. But, sadly, just thinking about having a BM has made me sleepy.

It's getting harder and harder to deny the fact that I'm aging. Somewhere around 25 is when I think I first started feeling this. At 25 you might as well be 70 to a 24 year old. Heck, at 25 I was married and had two kids! That probably had something to do with it.

But even the late 20's provide a lot of wiggle room when it comes to looking or feeling older. Only four years into my thirties, however, and it's catching up to me.

For example, I have noticed several gray strands in my goatee. I've had gray hairs on my head for a long time, but gray in my beard is an outrage. But that's not even the worst of it. Just in the last few years I've noticed hair growing in unusual places, while it seems there's more hair in the usual places. I can only tweeze for so long! I give it another five years before I give up altogether, and let the savagery take over.

This year, I actually considered using Christmas money to buy a blanket. I'm suddenly cold all the time! I'm pretty sure 70 degrees is still 70 degrees, but my body is telling me otherwise.

The thought of staying up past midnight sounds more like punishment than a party. While I should be enjoying the social outlet, I'm only thinking of how it will feel in the morning.

In fact, 30 is starting to sound young, and women in their 30's are getting more and more attractive. I'm convinced the most beautiful woman in the world is a thirty-five year old brunette mother of four. Her name is Amanda...she's a goddess.

A few days ago I went to the doctor for no other reason than it seemed like the right thing to do. If that doesn't have old written all over it, I don't know what does.

Happy birthday to me.

I've said too much.