Thursday, August 23, 2007

just call me puddleglum

In about month, I turn 40. My body is falling apart.
If the day just comes and goes with no fanfare, I think I would like it better.
I don't want anyone to call me that day. I don't think I will want to answer the door either.
I don't want to hear anyone say "Happy Birthday" because it won't be.
There is a slight possibility that my eyes will be swollen from crying.
I loved 30.
Everyone I know who turned 40 in the past few years makes it look so easy.
Everyone I know who is older than that even makes it look easy.
Wonder if they held up in their house like a hermit on their 40th?
Then emerged the next day and bravely got on with life.
I don't think I will be so gallant.
As childish and infantile as it sounds, I may have to "have a spell".
To quote (as best I remember) my cousin who was once 3 (or thereabouts) and very tired one day:
I don't want it. Don't look at it. Don't think about it for me. Don't put my name with it.

2 comments:

Sandy said...

40 was not a big deal but turning 30.....well lets just say that was horrible, terrible, horrendous. Dh left for work that morning and I was in bed and when he came home that was where I still was.

50 was not bad either but I have a feeling in Oct when I turn 60 it is going to make 30 feel like a walk in the park.

Pat said...

Let's just say that when I went to the doc this week and was handed a computerized prescription (medical records are on the computer, you know!)with my age prominently displayed as 60, it was hard to see that staring me in the face. Thanks to good hair and skin genes, visually I don't look my age, so having to proclaim my actual age to others is hard. I generally haven't had a problem with aging, but admitting I'm the same age as George Bush and David Letterman has been difficult.

Oh well, as my 85-year-old Dad says, "Consider the alternative."