Getting Old Sucks

I’ve enjoyed the ongoing dubious honor of being reminded on a regular basis these past few years that growing older has side effects.  Initially, these friendly reminders were positive.  Sort of small PSA’s aimed at letting me know I’d arrived in a sense.  Silver sidewalls, worldly-looking lines etched in a weathered face that hinted at experience and wisdom.  People take you seriously… well, at least they do more frequently.

Lately, the reminders are more like those horror movie trailers you get for the new horror genre’s offerings: subtle hints, dark settings, building tension and then BAM!  The creeptastic blip of ohmygodthehellwasthat?  Therefore, I’ve put a moratorium on this asshattery until further notice.  I fully expect, therefore, that I will no longer need to endure the following:

Waking up to Rice Krispies.  I roll out of bed, and my knees make a sound oddly identical to that snap-crackle-pop your cereal makes.  Shambling toward my alarm clock, I get dual Fourth of July firecracker strings, one from each foot, as the joints from the ankles downward give up whatever loudness they’ve hoarded since last night.  Happy Chinese New Year.  Yeah, and then the hips and back join in up the block.  I’m calling the cops.

Stupid, persistent fatigue.  This weekend I got all ambitious and turned my mulch pile.  It had been ignored for a year, and well, it’s not gonna turn itself, right?  Happy mulch = aerated mulch.  Two days later, I can still barely walk because apparently the muscles I use at my douchey desk job aren’t the same ones involved in spade work or repetitive shoveling.

Decreased capacity.  No, not that you sick, dirty, fucks.  That still works, I’m pretty sure.  Anyway, I’m talking about casually starting a run, and then getting warmed up.  After that, I have to back off to a violent walk.  My lungs complain, burn and the sensation of mortal distress emanates from my heart outward until it reaches my knees.  Thirty minutes later, I’ve completed my ‘run’ like a bag of hammers and coated the treadmill in a layer of sweat and phlegm.  Yeah, sorry about that.  Time was, I could ask you to pick a number between 15 and 20, I’d run that many miles in a row at a 6:30 pace and ask you for another number.  Now gym attendants come to try and push me back into the water and hold a mirror under my nose, the young and snippy fucklets.

Migratory hair.  I am bald and proud, because being mistaken for Dave Draiman is just awesomesauce.  However, the unintended consequence of evicting my hair from my melon apparently is low-rent squatting elsewhere.  Apparently, the hair decided that it would move south, barging in and taking up unauthorized residence in my ears and nose.  I’ve retailiated by systematically yanking the little fuckers out by the roots until my eyes tear themselves dry, but they persist like herpes… or so I’m told about its persistence.  Any incursion into the Back Territories will mean war.

Intake restrictions.  I noticed in Afghanistan that suddenly I couldn’t eat certain foods because I’d suffer volcanic, dragon-fire-breath heartburn.  I got the hint after the fifth time oatmeal and bottled water came back on me.  I’ve improved somewhat but now the list of Do Not Eat includes: strawberries, raw onion, the dessicator packets in snack foods, tomato sauce in large amounts, bananas, Albanian midgets, gluten from Ohio, and Smart Cars.  If chiles, meat and chocolate make it to this list, I’m going to spread a tarp in the backyard and suck-start my pistol.

I’m only 44 years old, being born at the tail end of the Sixties.  The cars America built in the Sixties are still out on the road and doing just fine, so why not me?  I’m self-repairable but made from equally-fabulous American stuff.  WTF?

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Go see other Suckage: Why Birthdays Suck!


87 Responses to “Getting Old Sucks”

  1. 44 isn’t old, says the guy who later this year turns the same age Elvis was when he “died”

  2. Rants, those packets clearly state DO NOT EAT. Geez, I guess reading isn’t required at this desk job?

  3. Thanks for the warning about what I should expect later this year, when I turn 44 (except the baldness and the nose hair…that so ain’t gonna happen). Yikes!

  4. Yeah, 47 ain’t no picnic either, pal. Wait until your eyes decide that the nice fonts on all the blogs are too fucking small and you have to manually manipulate them into monster size in order to read any shit at all. Fun…I hear ‘ya.

  5. I enjoyed your humorous look at aging. I believe the answer to slowing down aging could lie in yoga: breath control, posture, healthy eating, regular exercises and stretching. It sounds like you’re managing the exercise, but perhaps think about picking up a book about yoga…Just a suggestion. All the best 🙂

  6. Looking like Dave Draiman is definitely sweet! The ear and nose hair…. not so much. This is about where a 100k mile tuneup would come in handy to keep everything working like it used to. Call the Manufacturer – you’re still on a first name basis with the big guy, right? Maybe ask him for all of us.

    I’m already feeling the first hints of age: after I turned 25 (year 26 is 2 weeks away) I started having joint pops and pains. Going for an all day hike now requires at least a day of recovery for the ol’ knees. This does not bode well…

  7. Well shit, you might as well break out the wheel chair old man! Are you pulling your pants up to your rib cage and yelling at the whippersnappers to stay off your lawn?

  8. Just repeat Jaimie’s comment here – it’s perfectly hilarious!
    And sounds like it’s time to get some large white clunky comfort shoes for walking -not!
    Fight it like crazy – you won’t win, but you will feel better about it.

  9. I thought I’d bring us full circle in our varied conversations this morning – begin with PTSD and douche bags, and end with ear hair and heartburn (Oatmeal and water? Really?? You might have to resort to only eating baby pablum).

    Sure, I can laugh and point at you now, but in a mere 65 days, I will be joining the ranks of 40-somethings. But you won’t hear me bitching about chin hair and saggy boobs (because I already covered those topics in my blog). Instead, I will sit back, crack a beer, and smile as my body falls spectacularly to shit.

  10. I guess we’ve *all* blown off the “Live fast. Die young. Leave a good-looking corpse” thing already, eh?

  11. My dad, at 87, thought that if he did enough push ups (pushes off the counter by that time) he would be 18 again. He didn’t. For me, at 65, the worst thing is that all the bad choices I made over the years have come back to bite me. And I don’t just mean choices made at the fast food stores, either. You just have to cowboy up! Good luck.

  12. You’ve got a yer or two on me, but it sounds like your symptomms are starting later.
    It’s not the years, baby. It’s the mileage.

  13. Oh. My. Griefishness. This needed a warning before reading. I guffawed laughter all over my office space. That was fabulous 😉

  14. Some day I am going to grow up to write a ‘getting old sucks’ blog!

    I am not that far behind actually but for now I am just going to admit and try to justify my youthful ignorance with that I never expected to make it this far and had I known … but now I sorta do so I best get my ass out there for one of them there violent walks.

  15. I hate to tell you but Rice Krispies is just the beginning – a few more years & your hips & knees will sound like balloons being popped when you get up in the morning. It’s kind of depressing when you can’t sneak out of bed anymore for all the noise your joints make. And because you’ve been up peeing half the night your joints haven’t had enough time to really settle into concrete!

  16. Please, please tell me just what is up with the dang ear/nose hair? Good Lord, I have to shave my dang ears! And how the heck can the top of the head go bald, yet the chin keeps growing like crazy, as if to make up for it?
    I just tell people my hairline isn’t receding, it’s rotating. In another few years, my entire top-o-the-head will be clear, but I’ll have a thick, full beard. In another decade or so, it’ll start going back up the back of the head. With any luck, I’ll have a full head of hair again in, oh, say, 50 years?
    (You will note that I’ve been very nice, and at no point did I say “You’re GETTING old? GETTING?!?”. You’re welcome. 😉 )

  17. I see your 44 years and raise you 4 plus a uterus.

  18. Announcer, in whispered tones: “She’s stepped away from the table, and seems to be consulting her husband for the next move…”

  19. “…And she’s back at the table…”
    The husband has spoken. Here is his exact quote (spelling and grammar checked) below:
    “You go all in. You can never compete with a woman of menepausal age. You may get stabbed or kicked, or killed while you get that three hours of sleep your male body lets you get after you thought you were invincible when you were younger, only to figure out… not so much. Oh, damn I have to pee again…”

  20. Therefore, I’m All In, suckas!

  21. Husband’s final words, stolen from The Princess Bride: pknight639: “Never get involved in a land war in Asia. But, only slightly less well known is this: Never go in against a Sicilian, when death is on the line! But most of all, never challenge any woman before, during, or anywhere near menopause.”
    pknight639: I added the last line

  22. Reblogged this on emmeunrestrained and commented:
    ya’ll must read this – I don’t agree that 44 is the beginning of the end as I turned 49 yesterday and started Oriental dancing (belly dancing) the day before 😉 but it is very funny.

  23. Another vote for yoga! (and swimming)
    Don’t think it’ll help with the hair tho..,

    • Okay taken…. but I like baldness.

      • Baldness rocks. Ears and nose more of a challenge ( I’m older than you, I’m allowed experience seniority) Hilarious post though 🙂

        • You are so not! … uh, okay wtf do I know, right? Yeah, nose hair sucks ass. I have a trimmer!! Not sure about yoga. My feet and legs only go certain places now.

          • Am so! All internet photos carefully selected to reflect Kat 15 years ago. Yeah the thing about the yoga is it lets you limber up nice and slow. Good balance to running and weights. Good for organs and important shit. (Granny gems of knowledge)

          • Granny my big jiggly butt… for now. Who knows, I might try it. And my gravatar pic is over a decade old… if you’re in the know you can tell by the camo pattern on the hat. 🙂

          • Not in the know at all 😦 My brother was in the Canadian military for a couple of decades but I didn’t pick up much by osmosis. Mostly we’d talk about Romeo Dallaire – a fascinating character and totally compelling PTSD story

          • I’ll have to look him up… Dallaire that is.  Thanks!

          • So your feet only go certain places, eh? Are you suffering Athlete’s tongue again? 😉
            (Hey, ya gimme the straight lines, I’m gonna ply the yuks. Emphasis on yuk! 😀 )

          • *facepalm, Picard-style*

  24. My worst one is now I have to ask my kids for technical assistance on some things. I’m in IT and I have to ask my kids. How sad is that????

  25. Sounds like 44 is a blast! Can’t wait. Although I am “only” going to be 29 this year, the migratory hairs are pissing me off. Mostly it’s just getting thicker and darker. It’s fabulous. I’m Italian and I guess that shit doesn’t help. I’m telling you this though because it sorta sucks being the only one of your friends who is still dating and you’re trying to be hot but you’re just awkward as fuck and a guy points out a pokey, wiry hair on your chest that wasn’t invited and definitely doesn’t fucking belong there and then the next day he sees one on your chin and says, “that’s gross.”

    Growing up is bullshit.

  26. Now this post I really enjoyed.. at 63 those darn hairs begin to appear in all the wrong places and controlling them is just so much more difficult… good luck at 44 wait for the later years…

  27. […] For more suckage: Why Getting Old Sucks […]

  28. […] and pains wasn’t one of them.  Some while ago, BrainRants, a mere stripling in his mid-forties, published a post about all the pains and strange body noises he was accumulating.  Bloody amateur, just wait till he […]

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