If anyone should happen to find some loose arm muscles lying about, I’d appreciate it if you would pick them up and put them in a safe place. They’re mine!
I’m sure I had them yesterday (or maybe it was the day before!). But when I woke up this morning, someone - without so much as an “If you please” had put “arm-a-jello” in their place. I don’t know who coined the term arm-a-jello, but they will know what I’m talking about.
Where my biceps (I call them arm muscles) used to bulge, they now jiggle like a bowl full of jelly. I mean, what’s the world coming to? Go to bed feeling like Charles Atlas or Sylvester Stallone, and then wake up feeling and looking like George Burns on his 100th birthday! Something strange is afoot.
Someone said, “It comes with years.” What comes with years? Sadistic thieves? They have no right to take away my yesterday and disrupt my tomorrow. What nerve!
It’s too bad there isn’t a law against years. They’ve been getting away with this nonsense far too long. They’re okay for the first half-century, but then they seem to lose control.
They draw lines on your face when you’re asleep. Wrinkle your lower arms and paint ugly spots on your hands that even lemon won’t take off! And, of course, steal your muscles and leave arm-a-jello to infuriate and frustrate.
What is it they used to say about the progression of years? “Some bring cheers, some bring fears, some bring tears, followed by leers and then comes sneers.” I’m right in the middle of leers and sneers!
I’m afraid of turning red from sunburn in the summer in case kids come racing at me with spoons in their little hands.
It’s bad enough when one’s chin starts to grow other chins. And one’s second stomach overlaps the original. But when your upper arms on the underside start waving like flags in a gentle breeze, that’s just a bit too much to take!
I remember when the theft occurred in my Mom and Dad’s lives. Even friends before and now are going through the same thing.
I wonder if there’s a lost-and-found for missing muscles and taut skin. If not, there should be. But I refuse to quit or surrender!
I still wear runners though I can no longer run. And sneakers though I’m now too tired to sneak. I even wear a windbreaker when there is no wind and continue to belong to the human race even though my racing days are over!
No sir! I’m not used up yet!
But at the rate those outlaw years keep stealing from me, I wonder about tomorrow.
If years steal away any more “parts,” I may not be able to part-icipate! Get it? “Part”-icipate. At least they haven’t stolen my sense of humour! My wife just advised me to check again. “Corn,” she says, is not humour. (How did corn get into this?) She’s a strange woman, but I love her! Corn?
I’m starting to be afraid to go to sleep at night. I never know what will be missing or traded come morning. But at least I don’t have to wear Coke-bottle glasses to see, although I still need glasses. I own my own teeth (I should, I paid a fortune for the plate!). I can still drive, as long as it’s not at night. And I can still dance, as long as I’m sitting down.
But I’m upset that my arm muscles are missing and arm-a-jello keeps jiggling around with me wherever I go!
Until I get my arm muscles back, I guess I’ll wear long-sleeved shirts and sweaters - even in the summer so as not to advertise the theft of years.
But all of you over 50, be warned! The thieves are out there and when you least expect it, they will pounce! Go to bed one night; wake up the next morning with your arm muscles missing.
The time bandits leave arm-a-jello where youth used to be. Ah yes! I remember it well.
JANUARY 2010 SENIOR LIVING VANCOUVER ISLAND
JANUARY 2010 SENIOR LIVING VANCOUVER AND LOWER MAINLAND
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