Getting Old...Ain't for Sissy's

How is it that most days I feel like I am about 20, give or take an ache and pain or two, but the person in the mirror looks so much older. And it is not that wise, aged well look that stares back at me. It is that scary...."who let your grandmother out of the psych ward look" that graces my mirror.
I saw a bumper sticker once that said...."Getting old.... ain't for sissy's!" I laughed...but had no idea of how true this would be.
In the last few years, everything that had been strategically placed up north, has drastically slid south. My natural hair color is now gray, my skin is becoming translucent and I have the eyesight of a blind person. And apparently AARP has seen me up close as my mailbox is inundated with their literature. Their motto must be "AARP...for those who are 50....or just look that way!"
My children laugh at me, as I now creek when I walk. I have bones and joints popping and cracking that I didn't even know existed. I am still strong however, and can carry my almost 60 pound son....moving him from his wheelchair to the floor or helping him in and out of the car. And I was very proud of this. In fact I was so proud that I was bragging to my dr. about this and all he could say was...."keep that up and you are going to end up with the bladder of a newborn!" I cringed. There went my last grasp at youth.
What is sad is my actions are becoming more and more that of a older person. I have the little 7 day pill container and every morning I take more pills than an addict. There is of course my thyroid pill, my pill for reflux (tell me that's not an older persons pill), my allergy pill, aspirin and fish oil for my heart, red yeast for my cholesterol, calcium w/vitamin D for my bones and B12 so I have the strength to take all the other pills.
I also have the older person attitude. You know the one where you go around telling everyone to put a sweater on because....YOU are cold. And somehow all my stories now start with....."back when I was a kid"......and as they should....my children run for cover.
I don't know when all this happened. It seems just like yesterday I was standing around rolling my eyes when my mother tried to dispense her words of wisdom.....now I AM her. My body used to make it's own estrogen; my hair used to have a color; and I used to not care whether anyone wore a sweater or not.
But alas....time has marched on and my maturity is starting to show. I guess I have earned my bottled estrogen, my bottled hair color, and my oh so many bottles of pills. Maybe all that is left for me to do is sit back, relax and put on a damn sweater!