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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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June / July 2006 Contest Results |
The
Invisible Line to Middle Age
By
Victoria Milillo, Pennsylvania
The summer of
2005 marked an important event in my life. I had somehow crossed the
line into ‘middle-age’.
How do I know? Well, at first there were subtle signs that I could
easily explain away. Signs that I chose to ignore for what they were.
For example, I became aware that I disliked driving at night. It seems
the oncoming headlights were too bright for me. This, I passed off as my
eyes being sensitive to the bright headlights. If I had to go anywhere,
I would make sure that the sun was still shining.
Speaking of my eyesight, suddenly, I couldn’t read anything without my
glasses. This too, I reasoned away with the comment that the printing on
medicine bottles and the like is made smaller and smaller. It had
nothing to do with my deteriorating middle-aged eyes. It wasn’t ME!
My next hint came at the amusement park. Now, in the past, I could ride
any type of amusement park ride there was. Fast rides, swinging rides,
spinning rides - you name it, I could handle it. My daughter asked me to
go on a spinning ride with her. I had been on this particular ride
numerous times, and in fact, I considered it one of my favorites. That
all changed! The ride began, and suddenly I didn’t feel so good. I
wanted it to be over immediately, or at least I wanted to jump-off. Once
the ride was over and my stomach caught up with me, I began to realize
that something was up. I couldn’t explain this one away.
Another hint came as I was sitting on my living room floor playing a
board game with my family. Normally, before I became middle-aged, I
could sit on the floor through the longest marathon of ‘Monopoly’. My
legs didn’t fall asleep, or stiffen up. Now, I sit there for fifteen
minutes and suddenly millions of pins and needles shoot through them,
and getting up is a challenge since they refuse to respond to my
commands.
The final straw came as I sat minding my own business in my dentist’s
office. There was a twenty-something guy there with his son, who was
about two years old. The little boy walked over to where I was sitting
and said casually, ‘Hi Nana!’ I immediately said, as nicely as I could
muster, ‘I’m not your Nana. Do I look like your Nana?’ What happened
next, I was not prepared for, nor did I welcome it. His father looked at
me and said, ‘Yeah, you kinda do.’ I was shocked, speechless, and
insulted. How could they think that I was old enough to be anyone’s
Nana!
With this came the thought that perhaps I have solidly entered
middle-age forever. My husband has been telling me for the past few
years that I am middle-aged and I should just admit it. ""After all"",
he would ask, ""how old do you expect to live to?"" My answer was
""probably to my mid-seventies."" ""There you go - you are middle-aged!”
Still, I fought the label refusing to be called such a thing. Never mind
the fact that clerks from supermarkets to department stores called me
‘ma’am’ for the past seven years. This proved nothing in my mind.
They’re just being polite.
But, as my daughter began calling me ‘Mom’ instead of ‘Mommy’, I
reluctantly admitted that I had entered a new stage of life. I resigned
myself to the fact that I am middle-aged! I’m not comfortable here, and
I still feel that perhaps I can pass myself off as, not necessarily
‘young’, but at least as ‘non-middle-aged’.
However, as I rush out to the grocery store before the sun sets, making
sure I have my eyeglasses with me in case I need to read something on a
can or bottle, I have to admit that I am (gulp!) middle-aged!
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