Saturday, November 7, 2009

Damn I feel old!

A friend tuned me into a place called (It’s AWESOME! Internet radio that you create your own play list on!) I was looking for classic country music and apparently, we ( and I) have differing opinions on classic country.

I intended Hank Williams Sr., Johnny Horton, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, Conway Twitty, George Jones, and Hank Snow, just to list a few. The suggested list was Alabama, George Straight, Randy Travis, & Clint Black. Now WAIT just a minute. That IS good music but it’s NOT classic. I listened to that during high school--when I wasn't rocking out to Bon Jovi, AC/DC, Ozzy, Guns and Roses, etc. Does that mean I’m a classic? (When I asked my husband he nearly lost his teeth for saying No honey, not a classic…a clunker…:P)

When my son came home engaged I felt my age slightly. At the wedding, I felt a bit older. When his wife had their first baby I felt MUCH older—but until the last week, I’ve never felt THIS old.

I would tease my husband—who is ten years my senior—about being in bed by 9 or 10. Laughing at his being an old fart and needing extra sleep. It’s not so funny any more. Not when at 10:30 I’m unable to keep my eyes open.

This morning I was brushing my hair and a pudgy, wrinkled, old woman stared back at me from the mirror. Scared the hell out of me, I’m telling you! I blinked and blinked again trying to clear the image away only to realize it wasn’t going to disappear. It was me.

I used to think people who spent money on wrinkle creams and diet pills were just throwing it away. I was going to grow old gracefully without hair dyes, home wax kits, creams and various sundries. As I pondered over the quandary to wax, bleach or pluck I decided their thoughts did suddenly have merit. While piling on the Spackle and flesh tone dent filler, I mentally listed what items I was going to have to add to my shopping cart this time around. Time marches on or as in my case right over the top of me.

I guess it could get worse—I could’ve read my name in the obits this morning.

Geriatric hugz and Dentucare kisses

Jinger Jackson is a forty-something author from St. Louis who loves writing erotic paranormal and erotic horror tales to thrill and chill readers. You can follow her daily blog at


Terry Odell said...

I have to say, I really HATE that old woman in the mirror. Or when I renewed my passport and they put someone else's picture in it. Seeing your mother when you look in the mirror is scary. Then again, my driver's license picture was taken in 1989, and that's scary too.

And did you know Sesame Street is 40 now?

However, I'm still much more likely to be up front about my age than reveal my weight. And since I was a card-carrying AARP member when I started writing, I'm willing to say I'm not OLD. I've just been around for a while.

Jennifer Johnson said...

Break your mirrors. They lie to you about your age. If you feel beautiful, that's all the matters. And if somebody else disagrees, just whack them in the leg with your cane.

By the way, I use I recently found Jeannie C. Riley's "Harper Valley PTA" and Lyn Anderson's "I never promised you a rose garden". I LOVE my playlist.

Wendy said...

I LOOOOOOOOVE PANDORA!!! I agree with you on the classic country though, I dont consider Alabama that at all.

Pssshh age is nothing but a number. Its all in how young you feel!!

Anny Cook said...

*Snort* I hit sixty this year. Have extensive experience with all that wax, hair color, and other assorted enhancements!

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