LOSSES & GAINS

The new year dawns cool and gray, and after quickly dismissing the notion of making one or more resolutions, my mind turns to thinking about what I have lost, not in the past 12 months, but over the last 7 years. I am not talking about car keys, or opportunities, or even the people in my life.  I’m talking about those things that we lose to the process of aging.  Why this has inserted itself into my mind on the first day of 2017 is beyond me.  It just sort of happened.

It does not take much imagination to quickly surmise some of the losses a 77 year- old man might experience.  I have lost most of the hair on my head.  What remains is thin and lacks the substance needed to keep combed, so I have it cut short enough to render me almost bald.  I am convinced that the less hair one has on one’s head, the faster it grows. Interestingly, new hair appears elsewhere – on my ears, nose, eyebrows, and shoulders – one of the few “gains” of aging.  I’m seriously considering a comb over using my eyebrows.

Another gift of aging has been directed at my skin.  It seems every week a new spot occurs somewhere, usually my face, trunk, and arms.  I think I will eventually look more like a leopard than the tiger I like to think I am.

I have also lost a half an inch in height.  But surprisingly that does not bother me so much.  What does bother me is the loss of some mobility.  I can no longer get up from sitting or kneeling on the floor without something to lean on.  And when I do, it is always accompanied by an audible oomph.

Then there is time.  I feel like my days are several hours less than they used to be.  I’m in bed at 9:30 instead of 11:30, and if something doesn’t happen before five o’clock, it most likely won’t happen for me.

But the cruelest loss of all is this: I have gained a belly and lost a waist.  That bothers me more than all of the other losses, including those that sensibilities prevent me from mentioning.  I now wear low riding jeans, which means they are buttoned tight several inches below my non-existent waistline.  The few trousers that fit where they should fit quickly begin slipping down to the “fall back” waistline, and the pants soon gather abundantly around my shoes.  As DT would say - not good.  I can prevent this with suspenders, and I do, if I can cover them with a sweater.  My vanity prevents me from using them when they are exposed for the world to see.

Growing old is a challenging opportunity to be cherished and appreciated.  My role models are friends and acquaintances in their 80s and 90s that I look to for inspiration.