“Grey hair is very coarse, you have a lot of them”. – hairdresser
“Would you like bifocals?” – optometrist
“Orthopedic shoes may help your sore feet”. – My brother
These glorious phrases helped me to begin my 40th year of life. “It’s all down here from here!” is a phrase I heard often from family and friends. I had heard the phrase before but never paid it much heed. I thought it was a silly, pessimistic expression. While turning 40 did not signal my impending doom, it did usher in some unwanted surprises.
Looking into a mirror I was horrified to see hairs on my “chiny, chiny, chin” What the hell?! When did this shit happen? I thought of my 79-year-old mother with stray chin hairs and a slight mustache, was this to be my fate? I pondered using Nair hair removal cream on my unwelcome visitors but decided to kill them with tweezers instead. Sadly, it seems this will become a routine.
Waking up from a night’s slumber is now accompanied by occasional moans and groans. It seems as if all of my 206 bones are capable of creating popping and cracking noises. My body has become an instrument of various unwanted noises, serenading me throughout the day.
Muffin top, jelly roll, spare tire; these are some of the names I have heard for a big belly. Some big bellies are large and round, protruding from a shirt. Some big bellies are soft yet full, a perfect place for a sleeping cat to rest upon. My belly is neither of those types, it’s lumpy with nooks and crannies. His name is Buddha.
Buddha has been a constant companion of mine for years now and it’s my fault. I invited Buddha into my life via cookies, hamburgers, pop and other delicious treats. Buddha has no purpose other than the occasional shelf to lay a book upon.
I have decided to break up with Buddha, once and for all. It’s not you Buddha, it’s me. I need to be on my own. Sorry and no we can’t be friends. Break ups can be hard, I understand. I have tried to break up with Buddha before. For the first couple of weeks, I am determined and excited. My determination fades and eventually I invite Buddha back.
I’ve lied to myself about Buddha’s existence. It’s not so bad Marie, he’s hardly noticeable. It is bad and he’s very noticeable. “Is there a baby in there?’ asked a little girl while pointing to my shirt. “No, I’m just fat hon” I replied with the realization that I was truly fat, not plump in the cute way I imagined.
In order to get rid of Buddha, I will need to form alliances. My tennis shoes, treadmill, walking paths and will power will be my best friends. Buddha has over stayed his welcome. Hopefully, when Buddha departs, he will take his friend, my double chin, with him.