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I think I'm turning 53
Sep. 18th, 2013 08:36 amI think I'm turning 53, I think I'm turning 53, I really think so. Name that tune!
It's my birthday tomorrow. Thank you, thank you. I've had some odd thoughts about aging percolating through my beady brain recently, kicked off by the experience of buying a new pair of jeans last week only to discover that my memory of how much my waist has shrunk in the past year was off by two inches. Let me tell you, it was quite a shocker when I put the jeans on and they were way too small. Wuh-hut?! I'd been joking for months that I was probably never going to get back to my old jean size, which was two inches smaller than that, feeling smug that I'd even made it down to the size I thought I had.
This made me think about how all summer I was feeling all buff and shapely and probably exposing more of my skin that was completely appropriate as I worked on the back of the house in the hot sunshine. I blame these randy feelings on the fact that I'm in better shape than I have been for a decade but still haven't really digested the reality that I'm, well, almost 53 years old, with a paunch that's somewhat reduced now but isn't really ever going to go away again. Oh, the vanity!
It has helped a little, in an odd way, to watch a couple of Luis Buñuel movies in the past week: Belle de Jour and Tristana. Both of them are about the impossible dreams of desire, and about the masochistic pleasures of being denied one's desires. Buñuel almost makes the world I live in make sense. Or at least he has a nice sense of humor about the fact that the world makes less sense the older you get. How can it be that I was so much smarter when I was younger?
Well, I continue to hope that I can find a way to age gracefully. First step: don't wear those dream pants!
It's my birthday tomorrow. Thank you, thank you. I've had some odd thoughts about aging percolating through my beady brain recently, kicked off by the experience of buying a new pair of jeans last week only to discover that my memory of how much my waist has shrunk in the past year was off by two inches. Let me tell you, it was quite a shocker when I put the jeans on and they were way too small. Wuh-hut?! I'd been joking for months that I was probably never going to get back to my old jean size, which was two inches smaller than that, feeling smug that I'd even made it down to the size I thought I had.
This made me think about how all summer I was feeling all buff and shapely and probably exposing more of my skin that was completely appropriate as I worked on the back of the house in the hot sunshine. I blame these randy feelings on the fact that I'm in better shape than I have been for a decade but still haven't really digested the reality that I'm, well, almost 53 years old, with a paunch that's somewhat reduced now but isn't really ever going to go away again. Oh, the vanity!
It has helped a little, in an odd way, to watch a couple of Luis Buñuel movies in the past week: Belle de Jour and Tristana. Both of them are about the impossible dreams of desire, and about the masochistic pleasures of being denied one's desires. Buñuel almost makes the world I live in make sense. Or at least he has a nice sense of humor about the fact that the world makes less sense the older you get. How can it be that I was so much smarter when I was younger?
Well, I continue to hope that I can find a way to age gracefully. First step: don't wear those dream pants!
