 I thought that I would take a moment away from all things cooking and maybe wax philosophical. I’m really bad about not waxing the floors, but I wax philosophical quite frequently. Just ask Mr. Fix-It.  I have the blessed joy of having had experiences in life that many people only read about in books. Some of those experiences weren’t so hot, but I always learned something in the doing. I’m not so old that I don’t remember being 18, but I’m not so young that I can bend backwards, and walk on my hands and feet like a crab. You know, we DID have to do that in high school gym class, in our younger days, and I always wondered how it was supposed to affect my outlook on life besides feeling dumb and seeing everything upside down. Well, I’ll tell you. It DID affect my life as I now have two herniated discs in my lower back and two in my neck. I am certain that walking like a crab did it. I never noticed it until a few years ago, but I KNOW the culprit. Thanks, Coach Cox. Had nothing to do with all that hay bale tossing. But my point? I’m no spring chicken.  On that note, I heard a very disturbing bit of info on the news this past week. Very disturbing. It seems, according to the headlines, that women become invisible at the age of 50. I pondered on that for awhile and I just couldn’t believe it. I mean, it’s at the age of 50 that women start getting bigger without any effort at all. It seems impossible that we could be getting bigger AND invisible at the same time, but evidently men really just can’t see us. That would explain alot. It would explain why the son, home on a visit, doesn’t answer the questions I ask him. I can now understand why Mr. Fix-It didn’t inform me that I was leaving the house in my old, ragged, backless tennis shoes (in which I informally flip-flop around), while dressed in a fancy frock for a luncheon. I was invisible!! It gives total understanding to the actions of the young bag-boy at our local grocery who asks, “Paper or plastic?” and upon my request for paper, immediately begins bagging my groceries in plastic. I think he just asks the question out of habit, because it is obvious that he can’t see or hear me.  But do you realize the advantage that we middle-aged women have now that we have found out the truth? There is no end to the possibilities this new revelation has provided!! I can sit in front of the doctor and eat a triple-decker, mayonnaise laden hamburger WITH cheese and he won’t say a word! He can’t see me!! I can buy a 1963 baby blue Impala for $15000 and bring it home and won’t have to hear about it because nobody will know where it came from since I’m invisible!! Shoot! That means I can’t get a ticket driving that 1963 baby blue Impala because the policeman can’t see me!! Oh my gosh. I can’t get my head wrapped around all of this. But wait…as I read along in the article, I now see that women only THINK that men find them invisible. That’s not very scientific. One of the ladies interviewed even shot the theory down by stating, “Even when I met the man who is now my [third] husband, I assumed he wouldn’t fancy me.” Well, he proved her wrong. He married her didn’t he?? Seems like he pretty much saw her!  More than half of the women surveyed felt that advertisements give them unrealistic expectations of how they are supposed to look beyond age 50. I can’t imagine why. The advertising world works hard to portray us women over 50 with not a gray hair on our head, shaped like Miss Universe and usually galloping across green meadows astride a sinewy steed while explaining the heartbreak of psoriasis or the inconvenience of constipation. You know that’s me! And so, I have just come in from a much more scientific inquiry of Mr. Fix-It, regarding whether he finds me invisible. He gave me a big hug and said, “How can I not see you?” I’m going to have to think on that answer, but I have a sneaky suspicion that it could hinge on that ‘getting bigger after 50″ thingy I mentioned!  |
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Tags: aging, invisible, relationships
Great, so in 5 years i will be completely invisible? Now I have to decide if I should continue with the diet I have been following….
Carol, don’t bother. Nobody will see you anyway! Oreos? What oreos? 🙂
I know, but what about work? Will they continue to pay me if they can’t see me? LOL
Your post was really funny!
A funny look at the sad reality of our youth-obsessed culture.
So long as the Lord sees me, who cares about being invisible : ).
AMEN!! And better the inner heart be visible than a fabricated outer body! Eh??
I agree!
Oh no! Only 10 more months before I become invisible too!
I’m still shooting for the gal on the horse photo… only picture me with blond hair blowing in the wind… well, the hair beneath the helmet anyway. Just because I’m invisible doesn’t mean I’m stupid too!
fun post!
Deb
Debbie, love it!! I think my kids put me more along the lines of the lady holding the cell phone and gawking like it’s a new toy. That was me last Christmas when they gave me an I-Phone and I’d never heard of them!! 🙂
[…] Counting My Blessings I just have to brag on the smartest member of our team, my husband, Mr. Fix-It. He never ceases to amaze me. As a side note, by way of explanation, I have a few herniated discs in my back and so I have discovered this awesome creation of technology called The TENS unit. It is the equivalent of sticking your finger into a light socket on purpose and enjoying it. This little unit comes with 9 volt batteries that send juice through lengthy wires to electrodes that you place on various and sundry parts of your body. At the turn of the dials, waves of electric shock pulse through those nerve endings that have decided to let you know you are in pain, and gently put them to sleep. Pretty soon, you’re signing up for an aerobics class and thinking about flying lessons. It’s great. That is, unless you turn it up too high or an electrode loosens. Then, you are dancing around the room, squeaking, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” as you grab for the little battery box in an attempt to turn it off. It is worse, however, when one of the little wires begins to burn up. Such was the case with my TENS unit. One of the wires evidently had a tiny break in it and the thing finally burned up. In the interim, I didn’t realize it and so I couldn’t figure out why I got shocked at really inconvenient intervals. Nothing like carrying on a converstation and letting out a squawk while doing a poor imitation of the “Freddy”! You young ones will have to look that up! Finally, the unit died and I was not a happy camper. In comes Mr. Fix-It, in cape and leotards – ok, well, jeans and tool belt – and began major surgery on the offending wire. I watched, fascinated, as he used a meter to touch every spot along this really, really skinny wire to find the break. With an “aha!” he got his wire cutters and clipped a section right behind the piece that goes into the battery pack of the TENS unit. There it was – all burned up inside its plastic sheathing. With a soldering iron, some solder, my extra hands, and a new plastic sheath, he put it all back together good as new. Now I can go back to zapping myself with no interruptions. I am totally blessed!! What a guy. […]