Sorry… ish…

I’m sorry I’ve aged. That gravity has taken its toll on my tits. That my metabolism has slowed and my discipline waned. I’m sorry that my brow furrows more and that my laugh lines appear regardless of my humor. I’m sorry that my standards grow higher as my ass lowers.

I’m sorry that you think I should actually apologize for the aforementioned. In truth, I’m not sorry. Sure, there are days when, at a stoplight it’s a tough call; do I yank out an errant grey hair from my scalp or a witchy stray from my chin. Naturally, I wish that workouts were as effective and easy-to-recover from as they a decade ago …. I’d love to have gained the gravitas without the gravity. But since I can’t manage to have it all… I’ll abide the sag in exchange for the sage wisdom I’ve extracted from the years.

But you would.

And that makes me sad. A book shouldn’t be judged by its cover – especially not one whose pages are filled with so many hard-won life lessons. Your knowledge is vast not deep – but there is wisdom in those tiny details… wisdom you’ll never enjoy because you’re so enraptured by the bright shiny covers.

I’m riveting. You look good… but then you open your mouth and well everyone in earshot opens theirs too… in a responsive yawn.

So, this is goodbye, my soon-to-be former friend. I won’t see you at the gym anymore – I’m taking a hike. Literally – and figuratively. Have a good (looking) life.