Friday, February 22, 2008
Growing older (read: growing old) is like that simulated exercise we did in the navy, where water kept flooding the room while me and my buddies screamed and swore and sawed planks of wood and shored up openings wherever we could find them. But sure enough, as soon as we got one area secured, another leak gushed forth. Yes, that is how I feel about the onset of old age. I mean I'm doing a great job, assisting excellent genes (both my parents always looked ten years younger) with organic food, organic skin care, supplements, yoga, Tai Chi, walking, and regular visits to the gym; but still, it's creeping in, no doubt about it. And even as I shore up one trouble spot - colour in the hair, a good push-up bra - another area falls. Bit like the Roman Empire, come to think of it, but I don't want to mix my metaphors. There will come a day when I will surrender. Like Colette's Léa in The Last of Cheri (based on herself methinks), I shall just give up the battle, eat pastries and chocolates, and become a little fat old lady who laughs all the time. But not yet. Not today.