On aging

I just had a deep thought.

I was rushing past the bathroom mirror to shut the running water off in the tub and I caught a glimpse of myself going by. And I thought, "gee, I'm old." And also, "this is how I look now. But that's OK. I am good with looking my age."

But that's not my deep thought.

This whole getting old thing is taking a lot of getting used to and I think I just now figured out why.
Bear with me a second as I sort through it.

When we're kids, and up to the age when we stop growing, our looks change drastically every five minutes, or so it seems. Kids get used to seeing something different every time they look in the mirror.

In the years between 20 and 50, things pretty much stay the same. We might get fatter, or our hair gets thinner. Or grayer. But basically everything stays constant. At least that's how it's been with me. For 30 years, every look in the mirror showed the face I have been intimately familiar with.

Once I hit 50, things really began to change. The wrinkles in my face are coming out of nowhere. The texture of my skin is thinner. The gray is coming faster. The face I have known for so long is changing as quickly as it did when I was a kid, only it's the reverse. Instead of growing, my face will be growing old, at the same rate as it grew up back in my youth.

That's why I get so freaked out when I look in the mirror. Every time I see myself, I look different. And if I'm lucky enough to live another 20 years, I will watch the changes come faster and faster.

Our lives are like the life cycle of a tree, I guess. We start as seeds, we grow, we stay the same big strong tree for decades or centuries, and then we start to rot at the same speed at which we first grew.

It's the speed of the rot that freaks me out.

The photo, above, was taken in 1981 at a set for a movie being filmed in this area - a tacky horror flick called Humongous. I was working for the Gravenhurst News at the time. It was my first job and I was only 20 years old. It was the beginning of my face as I knew it for 30 years. I have to say, there were many times when I cursed my face for not being pretty enough, but now that I see my new-old face in the mirror, I can appreciate it for how beautiful it really was. (I'm hoping to write a magazine article about that old movie - it's why I dug through my yellowed, dusty archives of newspaper clippings and probably what got me pontificating on the wonders of aging.)

Bitchy people, wrinkles and blogging buddies

I'm fecking old. Look at those wrinkles. Time for Old of Olay.

Quiet day here.

There's a fire in the wood stove, a chicken defrosting on the counter. Ben, the white cat, is sitting in the windowsill, licking what used to be his balls. I'm doing laundry, in spite of the fact that it costs more on a weekday (stupid Hydro), because I'm preparing for my surgery tomorrow. Whenever I prepare for anything – a camping trip, dinner guests, cataract surgery – I do laundry. When the beds have clean sheets, when every last towel is clean and smells fresh, I feel fully prepared for whatever lies ahead. Probably if I was ever called away to some emergency the first thing I would do is throw in a load of whites.

***

Yesterday something funny happened. Me and Dave (Dave and me? WTF, I'll never get it straight) went to Scrawl-Mart to pick up an office chair for my son, Sam. And some carrots, because I eat 10 pounds per week – I'm not shittin' ya. I think my skin is tinged with orange.

A woman came up to me in the produce section. She had a warm, curious smile on her face.

"Are you Cathy?" she asked.

I nodded. Unsure. Did I owe her money?

"I read your blog," she said. "I wasn't sure at first if it was you but then I saw Dave and I knew!"

I laughed. "A blogger friend of mine named Alan Davidson says Dave is the most photographed man on the internet."

We had a great conversation, standing by the carrots in Wal-Nuts. Sue lives just up the road from me, near Bracebridge, Ontario. She has just started beekeeping and she runs a nifty blog called Backyard Bees. (You should pay her a visit – her poor blog is kinda lonely and she has funny stories about backing into trees and runaway roosters.) Anyway, Sue was LOVELY. I was thrilled to meet her. Truth be known, I think bloggers are the nicest people. I've never come across a blogger I don't like. (Here's a link to the time I met Alan and Laurita Miller.) My dream is to meet all of them. Sue Harding suggested chartering a jet and fly around meeting everyone. Wouldn't that just be the cat's ass?

Another blogger friend of mine, Shelagh Duffett (an amazing artist, photographer and writer) went to a luncheon for all the local bloggers in her neighbourhood. You have to go and check her post. They had amazingly gorgeous, luscious food and, I'm sure, plenty of fabulous conversation. I know from past experience that when you meet other bloggers, you never run out of things to talk about. They're like best friends you didn't even know you had.

As for meeting Sue, I have another thing to confess: if truth be told it was also AWESOME to have somebody stop you in a store and RECOGNIZE you from your BLOG! I mean, come on, you'd be lying if you denied it! I walked around on Cloud Nine the whole rest of the day! Back in the days when I didn't say back in the days, I wrote a column for a community newspaper, part of my job as a reporter. It was common to have people come up to you in the grocery store and say, "Aren't you that arsehole who works for the paper?" But this was the first time it has happened since I started blogging a couple years ago. Thanks so much, Sue!

Some day I'd like to host a tea for the bloggers in this neck of the woods. I'd have to invite Sue, my friend Deb, Malcolm, Sarah and Ed, for starters. I just know we'd have plenty to yak about.

***

It's been a weird few weeks, being at home, unable to see clearly. I was hoping to have gotten some writing done but, honestly, I can't see well enough to do it. Heck, I was playing cards with friends the other night and I couldn't see what cards were turned up. I had to ask. Their answer was always, "That's the Queen of hearts." I believed them the first 18 times they told me that. Tomorrow is the surgery. I'm excited to be able to see again but I'm nervous.

Somebody asked me, "How can you blog if you can't see?" Answer? I can't! Good thing I touch-type. Good thing I have spell-check. Good thing I can blow up my computer screen, like, a million per cent.

I called the Huntsville blood clinic to ask if I could squeeze in some blood work before the surgery. I have to fast anyway so I thought I'd get my cholesterol checked at the same time. I've been holding on to the requisition form for a while now because it's such a pain in the ass to fast and then get to the clinic, blah, blah, blah.

So I phoned the girl to ask if she thought I had time and, MAN, WHAT A BIATCH! She was the grumpiest of all grumpy-assed-grumps I've talked to in a long time! I was polite, and nice, and told her I had to be at the hospital at 9 a.m. for surgery and did she think I had time for blood work? You'd think I'd ask her for her LIVER. Feck! Not surprised, though. Every time I go there I am dazzled by the complete rudeness. The nurses are OK but the people who do the paperwork are just ignorant! (So sue me! It's the truth! You think people LIKE fasting and getting blood work done? You ever think they're not well and maybe you should be NICE to them?)

***

Yesterday I used all my Shopper's Drug Mart Optimum points (and some of Dave's money) to buy a bunch of Oil of Olay products (thanks, honey-bun). Since I lost 56 pounds (and still am going for more) my face has sagged. It's like someone popped a friggin' balloon. I went from lovely fat-puffed skin to an old lady in less than six months.

Don't bother shoring up my ego. It's true. The only good thing about fat is it pouffs out your wrinkles.

Normally I ignore the ads on Facebook but I saw one for a skincare test for Oil of Olay and I was bored so I did it. The recommended a bunch of skin care products for old bags such as myself. (If you want to do the test, go here.)

Already I've used it twice and, by rights, I should look like a teenager again.

Pfffft.

***

If I die on the slab tomorrow, please, will someone please finish my novel? It's 75% done. I'd appreciate volunteers so Dave can give you a call if I croak.

Also, to my kids and my husband and my family and you, of course – I love you all. Even though you're a big pain in my ass sometimes.

***

P.S. I've got Weight Watchers tonight and I think I'm in trouble. I had french fries the other night. NECTAR OF THE GODS. And now I think they're stuck on my lily white ever-loving, growing-smaller arse. Can you see them? Yep, that's them. Swiss Chalet specials.

God I miss junk food. God I miss seeing. God I'm long-winded. Sorry.

P.S.S. I've got lots more letters to come in my Letters from a Friend series. If I don't croak tomorrow, I'll post them when I get a chance. Just so you know I haven't forgotten y'all. (I love saying y'all.)