Life begins at 50

Have you noticed your handbag always fills up no matter the size?   I’ve wised up and now carry a child size rucksack.    Why you may ask?  A desire to return to my childhood?  No, it’s for a pragmatic reason.  As you know I’ve hurt my back, neck and shoulders and is currently under torture by two Sze Fu’s in Tai Po.  Today marks Day 4.  When will it end, who knows, until you feel no pain, apparently.  Well, the end of the world is more likely to come first, as my body is screaming with aches and pain all over.

They say life begins at 40 and since people all over are living longer the 50’s is the new 40’s.  They lied.  I am falling apart.  GOH has informed me only yesterday that my knees, bottom and legs could also do with treatment.  Bottom?  The other parts I exert especially the top half carrying shopping too heavy for my petite frame but my backside gets off lightly.  I almost spurted out ‘What’s wrong with my arse?’ but stopped just in time.  A girl and her bottom is not up for public debate.  Come on some things are still sacred.

It’s all downhill for me, I’m afraid.  And I haven’t been totally honest, I’m strictly speaking 51 and going on for 52 in October.  All my bits are in bad shape and have started threatening industrial action.  The heart has joined forces demanding to be fixed.  Worse still the brain cells have given up dying by the hundreds.

Sneaky or what?  Like your spouse slipping in a bit of arsenic in your coffee day after day so you don’t notice but kills you.  So my memory is getting worse.  Have you had that horrible lost moment when you go to get something and forget what it was?  Mmm that is happening far too often.  I’m 51, come on guys, give me a break.  I’m not due to fall apart till at least  2030.  It’s not my turn yet!  Pick on someone your own size.

Yet the Gods above ignore my plea.  Nature turns her back.  The finger is pointed.  You should have paid attention to your posture.  Who told you to save a few $ at the expense of your neck and shoulders?  You should be locked up for neglect, abusing your overworked  back for over two decades?  What kind of person does that?

I plead quilty  and suffer in the hope of salvaging  my body parts and what’s left of the brain cells.  Is it worth it?  Watch this space.  Next instalment, ‘The torture continues …’ is coming soonto all good blog sites.

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Posted on July 13, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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