Monday, August 30, 2010
I'm not as young as you think I am
Call it good genes. I don't know.
My mom has never looked her age. I have never looked my age.
I tend to perpetually look about 12. Not so cool when you are co-teaching at a middle school and spend the first week being stopped by other teachers for not having a hall pass. Literally. Three times.
Thankfully, I have a lovely reminder that I am, in fact, 38. It's called - my body.
My limbs have this funny little party game they like to play. And they believe life is a party. They fall asleep much more quickly than they used to. So, I can sit all floppy and young and twisted up on a cushion in the floor (still my favorite way to sit, but ...). The cool factor disintegrates quickly when I stand up and fall over onto a numb lump of flesh. Or I hop around throughout the pins-and-needles phase.
If I lean too long in one position, everything freezes up. It used to do this - ya' know - when you found yourself stuck somewhere for hours. But my body is all about the microwave generation now. It likes to speed things up. Stiffening up within minutes. One second, you're leaning up against something with your wrist bent back just so, enjoying a chat. The next second, you move said wrist and it is so very .... ah, frick-a-frack-a, ga-ka*^!%&*! Ow, ow, OOWWWWWW! Or you're just starting to move and you feel that pain - that slight pain that says, "If you just start moving normally, you are going to hate yourself ... take it easy there, partner." Of course, it only happens during very convenient moments. Never during ... oh, I don't know ... sex. Nope. Never.
*Don't tell me to switch positions regularly. My body is also like an extremely ADHD child. If I change anything too often during the lovey-dove, I lose my concentration. Gotta' stay focused, or you add another 20 minutes to the whole process. It's a delicate balance. Don't lean on the wrists too long. But don't lose your concentration. But don't get bored. But get off that other wrist. Entering the stiff pain zone, three minute mark, but if you move you lose your focus, but if you don't move you'll ... ah, FRICK!*
It's the three to the eight, baby.
I am officially "running" now. I was in track in school. I loved to sprint. Loved it. I could power pack everything into that short distance. I didn't do long distances. Good for the ones who did. Yea for them. Not me, though. I was a sprinter. Over and done. Even in practice, I had never run a full mile without stopping. Never. Ever. Yet, yesterday, I ran almost two.
That makes me sound so very athletic, doesn't it? Well, what you don't know is how my big age indicator reacted - my body. You see, I eat healthy and I get plenty of sleep on a regular basis. Yet, I was pushing my body beyond the norm and it was ... well, it was really, really tired. Almost fell asleep sitting up - multiple times. When I ate, I scarfed down food as though it might disappear before my eyes in 20 seconds or less. And the yawning - out of control. My body was tired. The exercise is great, and I will continue it, sure. But my body doesn't "ease" into this kind of thing like it used to.
Hello, 40. Wanna' start a little foreplay? K, but you have to be on top, cause I ain't leaning on nuthin'!
I actually love getting older. I adore gaining wisdom and having life experiences that only come with many flips of the calendar. By most standards, I'm also still an infant (my parents, for instance, are cursing me right now, "Oh, you think YOUR body is aging?!?" I know, I know - I get it!). For me, though, I appear to be such a massive contradiction.
No matter how I look on my best days, I'm so very NOT in my 20's. Not even close. My body reminds me - cause it's fancy like that.
(photo was taken in March, by Sara Janssen, who brings out the young in everyone)
Posted by Christine Moers at 8:00 AM