Medical Reports | Once Upon Your Prime

An actual card given to me this Saturday from some young Whippersnapper.

“AGE IS JUST A NUMBER!” People like to quote that old bumper sticker adage when they’re in a relationship with one person who is significantly younger or older than they are. (yet they want things to work) Well, I cannot begin to tell you how much I wish that romantic topic is what I’ll be writing about today.

But alas, I turn 50 on Wednesday, so instead this is going to be about getting older, so I can submit it to the WordPress Prompt before I get too old to comprehend the entry rules. Maybe it’s a contest or Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes I can win….Ed McMahon lurking?

Therefore the numbers I am going to focus on are all the numbers that younger people who like to say, “Age is Just a Number” don’t EVER have to worry about. Are you ready to examine them? Let’s go!

115/65 – – This is my blood-pressure. That is, when I am not contemplating how much I’d like to teach a good, “strong” lesson to all the young troublemakers who chirp, “Age is just a number.”

210 – – This is my total cholesterol and I defy you to find two articles that agree this is a bad number without giving you some ratio formula that sends you back to 8th grade math class. And then where would you be? Passing, “Do you like me?” notes to cute Jeff W? Or maybe to cute Susan M? Because after all, “Gender is just a word.”

1,310 – – This is the number of Calories that “they” claim I can take in and still maintain my current weight, (a number by the way, that shall remain ~~nameless~~ numberless?) Yeah, sure! This is also the exact number of sit-ups & push-ups I’ll need to do, plus the # of times I must run around my block if I eat anywhere NEAR that number of calories!

148 – – The number of my friends over forty who can relate to what I’m talking about here. At least I’m not alone. And yes, misery DOES love company. Misery particularly loves when the company you keep makes you look far better in comparison. (Hey, everything is relative!) You know, like surrounding yourself with older, uglier and duller – – so that suddenly you start to look pretty darn good?! Keeping this theory in mind – – if you’re ever looking for me from this point on, you’ll find me happily posing on the sofa pictured below.

That’s right! I’ll look like a ravishing bride if I get married sitting on this left cushion.

5 – – Average number of times in a week I lose my keys. We’re coming off a high-achieving week right now because it’s actually been 8 times. But I finally got smart and made copies so I have two more sets left until I’m really desperate. They called me from Target on Friday and urgently declared, “Miss Menopause?? We just found your car keys in our shopping cart!” I magnanimously said, “That’s okay. Give them to someone more needy than I.” Then I leisurely strolled to retrieve my 9th set from my jewelry box.

16 – – Number of times I look at my hair in a mirror per day and say, “Gray is the new Brunette.”

.2 – – This is the amount of Testosterone that courses thru my veins. 1. Google the amount in the average woman. 2. Google what kind of things Testosterone influences in your body. 3. Agree with me that I will never get remarried if I cannot raise this number.

4 – – Number of hours I sleep in a night. This is on a good night. This is because of a) 26 hot-flashes b) 22 thoughts of, “I better not forget to do such ‘n such tomorrow. c) 6 night sweats (don’t tell me this is the same thing as a hot-flash. It’s not!) d) 3 reoccurring, terrifying nightmares that I got remarried on that couch pictured above. Or remarried at all. d) 16 funny noises (not “ha-ha” like a whoopie cushion) that I think I hear at 1:45 am, which subsequently require my walking thru the entire house with a baseball bat. e) 2 realizations that I should probably make my sports-enthusiast son a baseball themed birthday party. f) 80 – the number of google searches at 4 am it takes me to find a local bakery that will make the perfect baseball diamond-shaped cake.

14 and 1/2 – – The number of times someone tells me in a day that I am “a little bit” obsessive/compulsive. The 1/2 is from someone else who also has OCD and keeps changing their mind.

2650 – – Number of piano lessons I was “encouraged” to have between the ages of 8-16 years old because my mother told me I would be popular at parties. “After all, everyone loves a good sing-along,” she cajoled.

0 (zero) – – Number of times I have been dragged to a piano and requested to play Moonlight Sonata or a Polka by ANYONE at all during some wild musical bash in someone’s home.

4 – – Number of times my mother reads my blog in a week so I can say, “See? I told you so.”

22 – – The average number of pills YOU Dear Reader will need to take every single day (to keep all the above numbers in control!) as you age. Note: I however, will NOT be ingesting any of this junk because I’ve officially changed my mind about this whole entire thing. I don’t need to win any writing contest about aging. I withdraw my entry! Forget it! (What writing contest? See it’s already forgotten!) I’m doing just fine as a young spring chicken, thank you very much.