“Growing old is like being increasingly penalized for a crime you have not committed.” ~Anthony Powell
When I reached age 55, I realized that humans were probably not meant to live that long. Parts of my body started to deteriorate: knees, spine, teeth, feet and, yes, vagina. Allergies suddenly materialized; eyeglass lenses became bifocals. And when I reached age 60, I gritted my still remaining teeth when people (always younger) told me that “60 was the new 40.” Like hell it was!
I hate to burst that bubble (actually I take great pleasure in it). You can exercise, watch your diet and stuff your system with vitamin supplements, but you cannot deter aging. In fact, aging begins in the womb. So there, thirty-somethings!
At some point during my day, I strap on my patella knee braces; tug on the foot pad for my Morton’s neuroma; insert a small pink, tear-drop estrogen-filled suppository in my vagina; floss and brush my teeth three times (rinsing with fluoride); stretch my back in various poses to alleviate pain caused by degenerated discs; apply drops to my dry eyes; install orthotics in my tennies to combat planter fasciitis; and swallow an assortment of medications to lower cholesterol, stabilize thyroid, reduce back pain, and put me to sleep.
And my electric toothbrush reminds me of the time of day (morning or evening) just in case my memory is failing.
Growing old is a full-time job. There should be a mandatory retirement age of 55 for all workers so that they can manage the time consuming aging process.
The Atrophied Vagina Club 