Growing Older, The Funny Part

Today I awoke to a sore back and a husband that thought it would be hilariously funny to write a "tell all" story on my deterioration through the aging process. I did not, however, find this amusing. Not at first anyhow.

I spent some time this morning reflecting on some changes that I have noticed with regards to The Other Half Of We that I do find funny. Here they are.

You know you are getting old when:

*Your wallet, which you have worn in the same pant pocket for many a year, starts to cause problems in your back and you are forced to wear it on the other side. TaDa! This works!

*There is more hair growing on previously virginal hair areas than what is actually growing on your head, which now looks like virginal hair territory.

*The sport which was once enjoyed as a true passion to the point of obsession, is now more of an uphill battle than a downhill ski run.

*Golfing seems like a more age appropriate workout than cycling.

*While you once threatend to replace an aging wife with two twenty year olds, that now seems like child molestation, since they are closer in age to your daughter than yourself.

*You're asleep by 8pm sharp on the couch.....oh wait, that's not something new. You've always done that.

*The mathmatics that was once advanced calculus for you in high school is now being taught at your 11 year olds grade 6 level. And there aren't nuns with rulers standing over her ready to beat it into her.

*People you know are starting to look like their relatives when their relatives were really old.

*You just don't get that younger generation anymore. You know.....anyone younger than 42.

*You used to sneak all manner of creatures onto school buses and into your parents home, but now don't want your kids to get even a dog.

*Psst...I won't mention the thing you were worried that I might mention on my blog....you know, the hiding of a blemish.

I think I'll stop there. I have a couple more good ones, but I don't want a divorce just yet, so they'll have to wait for another time.

Anyhow Mr. Perpetual Chocoholic, I still love you, you old man. And I never threaten to trade you for two twenty year olds. You can thank me by sending me for a trip to Jamaica baby.....alone;-)