Cry

When you look around and see the world getting younger, give gratitude for having lived this long. When your grandmother frowns at you every morning from the bathroom mirror, smile back. When your necklace gets lost in the folds of your neck chin, say you never liked that necklace in the first place. When small children want to play "connect the dots" on your hands, let them. When you finally get that beautiful platinum hair (without the aid of a hairdresser), think of all the money you're saving. When you can no longer zip or button your jeans, reminisce about how happy you were decades ago when the doctor said there was a baby under that bulge. I want "you" to do that; as for me, there is no way in hell I can do it. Of course I'm grateful for my sixty-eight years, but I'm not happy with how the whole aging thing works. Not happy at all. In fact, after I eat this prune, I'm going back to bed and cry myself to sleep. Hey! It's my pity party and I can cry if I want to. Cry if I want to. Cry if I want to. You will too when it happens to you.