It Can't be a Mid-life Crisis...Can It?!

I decided to spend this past weekend writing my life plan, which is an odd thing to do when you are already in midlife. I guess it’s like realizing half way through dinner that perhaps you should have followed a better recipe…or if I were to be honest... any recipe.

It may be weird to compare life to a meal, but apparently that’s how my brain works as I believe most things can somehow be relatable to food. For instance, my current career situation can be compared to the unidentifiable freezer-burned meat that was shoved to the back of the freezer god-knows-when, and it is now at that point when I must decide to either cook it or throw it away. (That is, if it can still be establish as "food". Much like I’m not sure that I can categorize my job as a “career”.)

Anyway, as mentioned, I spent the weekend trying to figure out my life... career…and whatever the hell the strange creature is that seems to appear in my mirror every morning. I realized this weekend that my body (under the cloak of darkness) has been morphing. It seems to be making every attempt to aggravate and bewilder me and it's driving me crazy. Oh Crap! I guess it is happening...I AM experiencing a midlife crisis.(I wonder if this means I have an excuse to buy a sports car.)

I suppose my life plan should include accepting my shape-shifting body, because frankly on my budget, acceptance is all I can afford. This will require embracing my new randomly forming fat pockets. (That is “fat” pockets, not “hot pockets”…this is NOT one of those food analogies.) I will have to learn to adapt to gravity trying to relocate my breasts, and accept the wrinkled looking road map that is starting to appear on my face.

However,in all fairness, I am also learning new things. I have come to understand what is meant by "back fat". I have also learned that ears and noses do NOT stop growing..which adds one more delightful dimension to the “allure” of growing older.

What is a little harder to accept is the Presbyopia (the syndrome which means if you were alive when Elvis Presley was still alive, then you probably need reading glasses). I’m near-sited so I can read fine, but this causes me to forget my glasses, so I am constantly roaming around the world half blind

So, it turn's out that growing older is really just a slow transformation into an amalgamation of Yoda and Mr. Magoo!

I guess I need to include that in my life plan as well.


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