Monday, May 04, 2009
Old Buzzard
So, I haven't blogged in a while because truth be told I don't feel like myself lately. I'm turning 35 this year but the actual numbers that refer to ones age have never really had any meaning to me. I know 42 year old men that look, feel and act like they were in their thirties. And I know 27 year old ladies that act and look like they are 40+. Numbers really have no other purpose but to keep track of passing time. The actual problem lies elsewhere. It arises when you realize that you no longer recognize the reflection staring back at you in the mirror. We've already established that I've never been a head turner. But in my own defense I'm comfortable saying that I'm also not quite Quasimodo's cousin. So I've noticed that those days spent worshiping the sun are beginning to leave crow's feet around the eyes, and furrows in the forehead. The once shimmery skin tone is ashing. The vibrance of the green in my eyes that has always earned me so many compliments is fading. Even the full head of unmanageable hair that used to have a mind of it's own now just sits there limp on my head. The many curves the body used to take now have an added speedbump right around the mid-section that seems to want to eventually grow into a dirigible. I've tried a little make-up to mask the obscenity my face is becoming just to realize that applying make-up is an art that I never mastered. I've tried looser clothing to mask the battle of the bulge with the result of just looking frumpier. And finally it's the attitude. Usually known for a happy-go-lucky kind of personality I'm instead growing to be insensitive and easily annoyed. There were times when I'd get the occasional compliment. Nowadays I'd even settle for a drunken "you're hot" comment as I don't even remember the last time someone said I looked half decent. Like a 1970 Chevy Chevelle left out to the elements I need a tune up, a new carburator and some major body work. Once, just a few years ago, sitting at a coffee shop I was mistaken for her sister. Now the best I could do is pass for the model of this epic figure. Sigh!
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2 comments:
You sure are hard on yourself.
I think bulges, wrinkles and sags become far less prominent to those around you if the attitude is adjusted such that YOU don't notice them so much.
And hey.. being somewhere between Demi Moore and the Mona Lisa isn't so bad. At least they both have nice boobs.
The eye that finds the Chevelle old and tired can't see beyond the fit and finish to the treasure before them. It sees only that miles of roads were taken but never considers the stories those miles can tell.
Some of us prefer the partially restored to the new. A new car is an unknown. It can be short lived and troublesome. I'd rather put my hands on something I know from a simpler time.
When someone chooses an old vehicle to restore, the use all their senses to choose it; they hear the engine, they smell the exhaust, they feel the rumble and see the shine -- but their heart makes the buy.
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