Wednesday, August 1, 2007

"HOSTA LA VISTA BABY"

“Hosta la vista baby!”

Its official, I’ve reached “the falling years”. You ladies over 50 or so will possibly know what I mean. Standing in front of a full length mirror in the nude (sounds so much more rude than naked don’t you think?} takes all the courage I can muster. The 63 year old body reflected back at me always comes as a bit of a shock to put it mildly. Is that really me? How can this be? Where did the slim, supple, smooth skinned lass of even 20 years ago vanish to? I’ve gained about 25 lbs in those 20 years and before that I can hardly believe that in my twenties at 125lbs I thought I was plump! I know, there are some really fit, taut, lithe women in their 60’s out there, not to mention those who are trying to stem the relentless tide of the advancing years with Botox injections, liposuction, face lifts and tummy tucks that only prolong the agony for perhaps another 10 years. Have you seen some of those gargoyles that pass for mature women on television? Mind you, if I lost 20 lbs and kept up at my fitness and weight training classes and had just a tiny bit of surgery to tighten a sagging jaw line and maybe a wee shot of collagen injected into my ever thinning lips, then maybe, just maybe I might try a foray into the dating scene again.

Anyway, once again I seem to have strayed from my topic; “the falling years”. Apart from the obvious of falling chins, breasts and buttocks, there is the problem of physically falling down. I seem to be doing this more often than I can remember since I was five years old. A while ago I tried running lightly up the stairs to one of our Sky Train Stations, why I don’t know, they come every five minutes, only to trip on the top step and sprawl heavily to my knees in front of the hoards of people waiting to board an arriving train on one side of the platform and a departing one on the other. As I struggled to my feet, gathering my scattered belongings to me, not one single soul came to my aid or even to ask if I was alright. They studiously ignored my plight as they fought their way onto the trains and I slunk off to the side to lick my wounds and wait for the next one. Pretty much only my pride was injured on that occasion though I was quite shaken up.

Another time I was on my way to a doctors appointment and after parking my car, I crossed the road and fell up the kerb on the other side. I don’t know why, but I did. I put out both hands to save myself, spraining (or staving as we say in Scotland) my wrists in the process. I also scraped my knees and muddied my pants. I got up, brushed my self off and looked furtively around to see if anyone had witnessed this latest humiliation, no one in sight thank goodness so I carried on with my appointment. My doctor, who is an old Scotsman just looked at me over his glasses when I told him my story and tisk tisking at me said “Oh lassie, whit are we gaeing to dae wi’ ye?” I ached all over for a few days after that spill.

The most recent event occurred last week when I was pottering around my tiny garden, plucking a weed here, tweaking a recalcitrant plant there when I decided the bird bath needed my attention. I could have gone around behind it which would have been the sensible thing to do, but no, I stretched over my pots of hostas and the little wall of edging stones around the plot and endeavored to twist the bird bath to level it off a bit. Well of course I over balanced, tipped the bath over and fell among my hostas, knocking pots and gnomes flying in the process. I can only imagine how this must have appeared from behind had there been any witnesses!

Once I extricated myself from the plot, almost impaling myself on the pointed hat of a cheerfully smiling gnome in the process, I surveyed the damage both to my plants and my person. I righted the bird bath and noted the many broken and flattened leaves of my poor hostas. I had sustained a “staved” left wrist, a scraped right hand, two bruised knees, one which has since come up in a bump the size of a hens egg and also a big purple bruise which has appeared on my right inner thigh, I don’t remember how that got there although I suspect the gnome had something to do with it.

So here I am, sitting in the sun recuperating from the trauma of it all, Gin and Tonic at hand and I am hoping, dear readers, that I’m not suffering alone with this ghastly affliction and I look forward to hearing your “falling” stories soon too!

Cheers!

9 comments:

RK Sterling said...

How sad that at 43, I could still relate to this post!

Hair falling out, body parts racing one another to the ground and 12 broken bones from the waist down in 10 years from various falls.

I think I'll just completely cover myself in bubble wrap before I get any older. :)

Martie said...

Oh, I can so relate to this! At 61, I have fallen 3 or 4 times recently. Injurying a tendon on the outside of my right ankle requiring physical therapy to help stablalize it, and another fall (off my backless sandal none the less) and causing severing bruising of the bottom of my foot at the heel, once again damaging some tendons and ligaments. I feel so klutzy....like when I was going through puberty at the age of about 13!

And the body falling.....when I looked in the mirror after showering the other day (naked, by the way) I began to wonder when my mother's body became my own! LOL How on earth did I get in this shape!!!

Travis Cody said...

I have been known to over-balance when putting on my pants...this is why I lean against the wall in my closet to do so. To date, I have not hit the ground but I suspect it is only a matter of time.

I may have to purchase a chair for dressing.

Oh...I'm 43.

Oldqueen44 said...

Oh, what a plight we all face. Yes at 50 I do relate. Passing by a mirror can sometimes be so shocking.
Once I took my kids to a lake and walked along the rocked dam as they floated on rafts.
My kids know I am always picking up odd things so when they saw me layed out flat on the rocks they just thought, "I wonder what Mom is looking at now" It made for a good story later when I showed the bruised knees and hands.

Samantha & Mom said...

Look in a mirror, eggad!! I'm 51 and a read a book the other day about how as we get older we shuffle our feet and don't pick up our toes and that is what causes a lot of our falls. The book says to walk heel toe, heel toe. It seems awkward at first, but then it becomes more natural. I haven't fallen or tripped since I've been doing it. I just joined the over 50 Blogger's and I am working my way to see everyone. Your post was thought provoking.
Mom of Samantha & Tigger

Anonymous said...

I haven't anything fall yet -- I'm 49 -- but one day. Thanks for leading the way.

Kaye Waller said...

I fell last summer, my foot having found a sinkhole hiding in the grass, and broke my elbow.

I'd had too much wine at the time, however.

:/

CharmaineZoe said...

Oh dear, looks like you got a real flamer there! What a pity. I just wanted to say how much I empathise with your story. I am 55 and have been falling for the last 3 years! The worst one was when I stepped down into the utility room, slipped, legs flew up in the air & hit the freezer. Top half flew back and went through the glass door behind me! I just lay there totally stunned for the next 5 minutes, unable to move. Poor hubby was terribly shocked, bless him. I finally managed to extricate myself from the hole in the door and somehow stand up with his help. I glittered like the
Las Vegas Strip! There was so much glass in my hair and on my clothes and body I had to go and shower it all off. I escaped with just cuts & bruises so was very lucky, but the hole in the glass door was pretty impressive (I've got the photos to prove it)Needless to say I am very careful now stepping down anywhere! Take care :-)

HopScotch said...

Just re-reading all your wonderful comments and want to thank you for visiting! I'm sorry you all seem to have had such bad falling experiences! I've not suffered any broken bones....so far, but will try to heel toe my way a little more carefully in future!