“An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her.” –
Well today marks the 6th decade of my life. I never envisioned myself at this point of my life but here I am. I am wiser and more tolerant than I was 40 years even 30 years ago Yet I am also more conservative than I was then as well.
As I ponder upon my life on this earth I wonder “if I had to do it all over again, would the outcome be the same?” Most likely the answer would be yes, because my genetic makeup would still be the same. My parents would be the same and they would still do what they did back then.
I don’t mind getting older except when I am forced to face the fact. For example – I went for my yearly (its actually been two years) checkup last month. I got the usual routine, check all systems, get blood tests, and – oh no! – female checkup. When the very young and very pretty – no wrinkles – doctor finished my female checkup, she looked up at me and announced “You are post menopausal!”, I wanted to smack her pretty face for confirming something I already knew but kept tucked away in the recesses of my mind. She then asked me a bunch of very personal questions about my sex life and proceeded to prescribe a hormonal cream for – well, you know where! It’s bad enough the doctor confirmed what I knew all along – that I was getting….you know….older; but now I am reminded of it weekly with that confounded cream.
I guess it could be worse, I could have some debilitating illness – oh wait, isn’t that what arthritis is, huh – that is beginning to rear its ugly head in some areas of my body. Well, at least I have all my faculties, I can remember who my children are, and their children and I do remember my husband and where I live. When I go out I don’t get lost although my husband might beg to differ when I am gone longer than he expected.
I still lead a productive life working in real estate and at the church. I still volunteer my time at the clinic and enjoy my husband and my poodle. Life is good in spite of that doctor and her comment!
PS. The picture is of me at age two. I am holding my stuffed poodle Fifi. When I finally did get my first live poodle, 11 years ago, I named her Fifi in remembrance of my favorite stuffed animal.