The Elderly and His Stomach

I have discovered something in my old age. The cast iron stomach that I once had has been replaced by a temperamental bitch who controls my every gastronomic whim. It is not like I get acid reflux all of the time but when I do it just kicks my ass. I don't remember it being this bad when I was in my 30's (the first sign of accepting your elderly-ness is rounding up on your age). After many sleepless, gas filled nights I finally had an epiphany. Not only is it the type of food but also the TIME that I eat. If I eat too late, my stomach turns into a pumpkin. If I eat food that is too spicy, heavy or creamy and combine it with eating too late, I am guaranteed to be up that night wishing only for an early death. This "Eureka" moment seemed to answer my conundrum but answered a question about the puzzling dining habits of senior citizens everywhere... What is the allure of the Early Bird special? It is not a desire but a necessity. Not only does eating early keep the intestinal bugaboo at bay but it also allows them to get home before it gets dark, obviating the need for a driver to take the wheel because their cataracts cause the headlights to produce awful halos around the lights. But this blog entry isn't about the visual problems of the elderly, it is about my belly and it's capricious behavior...
Chili is my Achilles Heel. I love it. My wife can attest to the fact that I once ate 5 bowls in a single sitting. Needless to say, my gut mistreated me and my family for a totally different reason that night.... But back to my indigestion. I used to pound chili without even thinking about the consequences. Now if I try that, my stomach seems to say "What in the HELL are you trying to do to me?! Knock that shit off!" I become a noisy windbag moaning in my chair watching my stomach bloat and distend. If you need a visual, imagine Violet Beauregarde from the movie "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"....each eructation is followed by a curse of my poor dietary choices. It is not a pretty sight (or sound for that matter)...
So why at age 39 do I still tempt the gastronomic gods? Because I am a man and men are stupid. We tend to forget the error in our ways whenever we are faced with something we really want to do. I admit it. I own it....this admission of guilt still doesn't cure my problem. Do I continue to abuse my body or do I call Uncle and yield to the inevitable? Aging sucks, through and through. But with aging comes a certain amount of wisdom. I now find myself picking and choosing my battles at the dinner table. For instance, if I am going to eat chili, then I am going all in- chili cheese coney or chili cheeseburger...no half assing it. Like a gambler- I am in it to win it, throwing in my chips with these belly bombs hoping that I don't crap out, literally and figuratively. Like that ageless bard Kenny Rogers once crooned in his timeless ballad "The Gambler", if I know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em, I may just survive another night and live to eat another day...

The Elderly and His Hair

My Story

So now that I am 6 months from my 5th decade on this Earth, I have been forced to reflect on some not so pleasant issues that billions of men over the centuries had to grapple with when situated exactly where I am now. Aging. Yep, that's right-the systematic breakdown of a once believed invincible machine that from a health standpoint purred like a Lamborghini but now sputters more like a cheap Yugo bought on Craigslist. This is my story-My attempt to make peace with this cruel process that I knew was coming but felt completely unprepared for. Maybe by writing this crap down I can keep it all in perspective and avoid that midlife crisis I see so many of my XY brethren go into. I am not guaranteeing any solutions but maybe anyone that dares to read this will understand what drives their loved ones to grow their hair longer, comb it over and buy a red convertible....

Hair

Let's get something straight. Hair is supposed to be in certain places only. Hair growing from the ear, nose or God forbid on TOP of the nose is not what I would call normal. Aging has provided me with a front row seat for this gradual slide back to the time of the Neanderthal. Hair of inordinate amounts sprouting from the nose, ears, and eyebrows while simultaneously scant on the dome of the head is nature's way of telling me to get over it. Nothing short of daily manscaping is going to keep me from looking like a stand in for Dr. Zaius from The Planet of the Apes (the fact that I even know Dr. Zaius is proof enough of my age.)

Ear hair seems to be the most robust. One day, no problem. The next, a small hairy nub has developed. How in the hell did it sprout overnight? Some sort of sick Miracle Grow? What genetic advantage could this possibly serve to all of the sudden have a bird's nest in my ear? By getting older, am I more susceptible to have bugs crawl into my ear? If so, how come women don't get them? My favorite hairs are the ones that my wife manages to stop me and say "Whoa!! Hold still!" She then proceeds to reach out and pull a hair the size of a small twig off of my ear. Really? Really?!? I am amazed and awed, like a little boy who has just had a quarter pulled from his ear. I swear to her that this sucker wasn't there 6 hours prior to this embarrassing pruning but she just smiles and pats me on the arm as if to say "it's ok, it happens when you get older." I am mortified....

The eyebrow hairs I just don't get. Growing faster than their neighbors, these guys are will take over the brow line faster than you can say "Ernest Borgnine". I wear glasses and if I don't watch it, it will look like a nest of Grand Daddy Long Legs have crawled on top of my spectacles. It takes maintenance. Lord knows I have seen my share of old men who have just given up and let the hair ivy just take over. I can't ever let myself get that way. I just don't think I could live with myself.

The nose hairs are disgusting but at least I have gotten used to them as they seem to have plagued men since the dawn of time. There is even a lucrative industry focused on removing these unsightly growths from inside the nose. The "Turbo Nose Hair Trimmers" seem to apparently be at the top of every male's shopping list. Mind you, I get most of my information regarding this booming business from late night infomercials and the latest copy of SkyMall. That being said, it would seem other men deal with this problem too. The hairs I can't understand are the ones that sprout from the TOP of the nose. What possible purpose could these serve in the grand scheme of things? It is like they are some sort of arachnid antenna protruding out into the empty void, searching for something...anything...I remember seeing an old guy with one so long on his nose that I swore it was some sort of biological curb feeler, used to alert him of his impending collapse into his Bran Flakes. Now, if I am not careful, I may morph into THAT guy...I get the heebie jeebies just thinking about it.

This explosion of hirsutism and my search for the perfect depilatory is just one of the many trials and tribulations that I have begun to explore as I move one day closer to the grave. How I cope with it all is anyone's guess. Who knew that waxing in my old age would look so attractive and that I would be looking for the Fountain of Youth in a box of Nads? Just kidding about the Nads business..... I gotta stop watching so much late night TV....