I had no idea I would be such a dude-bitch about turning 50. My life has been such a gift to live and now, with just 50 days until my birthday, all of a sudden I am angry all the time and I feel like I’m plummeting to my eventual death. I whine to anyone who is in earshot about gravity, allergies, Retina, my friends and family who suck, and I usually end up insulting the person I’m actually talking to. The angst in me is so great that I just might do physical harm to anyone younger than me who says something like “Fifty is the new forty,” but I might make out with them if they tell me I don’t look my age. Male menopause? You betcha. Add that to fear of living my twilight years while becoming frail and homeless instead of winning the lottery as an immortal vampire (The American Dream!) plus the ever clearer realization that I have not yet accomplished my life’s destiny. The pressure for me to take a big cruise or have balls-out party is actually excruciating to the extent that, up to today, I’ve been getting only about 5 hours of sleep a night. My mind has this sub-conscious picture of what 50 is supposed to be like and I don’t like the mental representations that keep popping up: they are not me! And I’ve put the word out on the street that if anyone dares to throw me a surprise anything or acknowledges my birthday without my permission in private or in-person that they will be written out of my worthless will.
I don’t think I have enough time left in my life to start therapy because, unless you’re exactly 50 years of age, a shrink wouldn’t begin to scratching the surface of what’s it’s like to turn this “magic number” and how it kicks you in the emotional ass. Ha, ha! Yes!, lately I’ve been an emotional ass but I’ve decided to help myself by writing about it for the next fifty days. And I am not holding back and you may not like me by the time I turn 50 on May 28th, 2012. I may not even like myself. But for the next 50 days I’m going to be open and honest about what it’s like for me to turn more-than-middle-aged and then I hope to go back to the life I had before this milestone and what has worked for me in the past: Lie about my age and live in my fantasy world of writing fiction. I liked that guy who was perpetually 39 as well as the fictional me in my pages and I was happy even if I was blissfully ignorant that I was getting older like all of you common people. SEE!
When I was getting my teeth cleaned today by Kimberly at my dentist office I was just forming the idea to blog about the above. As she was scraping the tartar or whatever off of my teeth it occurred to me that maybe that is what I needed to do to feel better. By writing about 50 I could scrape the rough edges off of my life, past and present, so I could bite into the next half (gulp), God willing, of my life with a clean slate. So I’m going to be clear headed and work on being thankful that I’m very healthy and I have all my teeth and purge the crazy. I’m promising myself that I will not have a spot of alcohol in the next 50 days and I am going quitting chewing on this nicotine gum whenever I felt like have a mood change. (I’m chomping on two 2mg’s right not but I’m quitting–tomorrow.)
Tomorrow I’ll write about my friends who I hate.
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