Middle Aged Know-it-Alls’ worry me

When I was of the ripe old age of 18, a man was ogling me pretty hardcore at a stop light. I just knew his middle-aged daydream was envisioning me and his 40 year old…..well you get what I mean, in the next 30 seconds when I lifted my taut, porcelain, age-spot free hand to flip him the bird- as my mother used to call it-ClunnkCRASH! He fully munched the rear end of the nice car in front of him. Slump-red faced I slid, boob level with the base of the steering wheel. Well, shit. I didn’t flip him off, I ALMOST flipped him off-but stopped short. So much for First Communion and church camp that one year.
Here’s what’s cool about recollections like these. They’re cumulative! This means, aging gives us advantage. We are judged first by ourselves- and never truly alone because we witness all of our actions. If you’re a chronic do-badder for thrills’ sake, this should reel you in-if you have a conscience. We can package what we did any old way we want to; a bad decision, an insufficient judgement, ignoring our inner voice. Again the cool thing-it is the whole of our person that matters, the sum of our parts, not an isolated variable that defines us. I don’t Do things fueled by misguided feminism or self righteousness anymore. I slow down more, think, amuse myself with thoughts of whose dad that might be or daydream about what brought that person to be so super-charged attractive feeling today -to even “go there” with someone half their age. I could be that person some day; sexes reversed of course- ogling some school boy. God knows life presents us with sex, sex, sex in every turn of our daily life and than slaps our hand for inappropriate thoughts.
In my earlier twenties I think “want” of intellectualism stifled my happiness. I think negativity swooped in because things didn’t make sense. I wanted to be smart first and pretty second. Now happiness, not being right, is key. In fact there should really be no such thing as a middle aged know-it-all. Who has energy left over to care about details anymore? I want more peaceful moments and crave challenge less and less. And although I am a sun seeker, I get excited when it POURS down rain really hard and the wind tosses my garbage can lids about. This is not a problem but a moment. I truly think-being middle aged is a gift. I wouldn’t want to rub away those wrinkles if that 70 dollar cream really would fade them- cause they tell such a story- each and every god-damned one of them. I even look at a nervous eye twitch with a tone of karmic need. It’s not a product of my depleting calcium stores as I get older. It’s the internal metronome that reminds me to keep rhythm with my own self. A reminder that I get another breath, and another, and another and that life is today. If I get a twinge of pain here and there-I am grateful my body reminded me how delicately out of tune it can sometimes be. But I also take time to revisit what a blip on this earth a lifetime is. Stuck in my head, yes, ADHD-sure. Perhaps I may be aloof- but anymore I am not rushing and there is no need to slow down….I am not rushing to work, most probably I am off to a dance lesson, or a jam session to make some music or tea with a friend. Now that I have studied the obits since news writing 101 in Freshman year at college, I know the Average age is 86 and if you screw up an obit you will never be a writer. So I am indeed roughly half way through my life! My middle aged mantra: Do away with all martyrdom and whining. My rule of happiness: Drop everything at the chime of a text or the ring of a telephone, take time for people, if your world were a bland canvas, people are the magenta on your brush. Wave to them, before they wave to you, smile at them even if they are from Seattle and for God’s sake instead of flipping them off, blow them a kiss!

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