How to grow old gracelessly

So I am gracelessly writing this in advance of my impending twilight years.  I always feel a bit down when birthdays loom.  They say when something bothers you to write it down.  Even if no one ever reads this but me, maybe it will ward off the doldrums.

The dictionary defines gracelessly with many negative words. Words like impolitely, rudely, offensively and even clumsily describe it’s meaning.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have no intention to be rude or offensive.  But to be honest, can you really define aging as anything less than offensive?  How can one describe aging as being graceful? The dictionary does an about-face with the word graceful, using words like elegant, charming and stylish. So I won’t be aging gracefully.

Seriously, I could never quite get the connection about aging as a graceful process.  Is it charming for your eyebrows to grow thin with a smattering of gray hairs?  And when you try and cover those errant grays with a pencil or the new-fangled eyebrow powders and creams, you start to gracefully resemble Groucho Marx.  

I get it; thick dark, eyebrows are in fashion.  They only look good, however, on nubile young faces though.  They make someone past the age of 30 look like they are trying too hard. The look comes across as comical.  And here you have my intention.  Humor makes all things tolerable even aging gracelessly.

So this guide or tutorial per se will be to follow my journey on how to try and get over the hump of years without totally going nuts.

Genetically, I’ve been lucky physically.  My mother once told her doctor she was 65, when she was in her 80’s and got away with it. He even told her that she looked really good for her age!  Understand she was an American of Greek descent.  Notice I do not describe her as a Greek-American, but I will get to that later.

 “Greeks never get old,” she would often say.  “They just get better.”  My aunt, her sister who was many years her senior, told her doctor she was 4 years younger than her adult son. (Those poor bamboozled doctors again) And he believed her even as she put her pointer finger to her lips for the benefit of an incredulous adult granddaughter. 

Not that I would ever try to pull the wool over my doctor’s eyes. You must realize that neither of these women was in possession of a driver’s license.  I do, however, possess the youthful gene that these women had. Although I am crossing that 65 threshold shortly, most people think I am in my early 50’s. Still old, of course, but younger than the actual numerical age.

My dad on the other hand, while he was also an American of Greek descent, was not so lucky in the fountain of youth department. He always looked old, even when he was young.  Hair loss, stress, and four kids took its toll. It was not uncommon for people to assume that he had robbed the cradle where my mother was concerned.  And what do you think the kicker is here?  She was 6 years older.

So, since I have genes from both of my parents, I’m fortunate and then again not so fortunate.  I’ve inherited my dad’s high blood pressure, diabetes and not so great cholesterol.  

It’s not all bad, though. Age has its benefits.  What are they?  Stay tuned.