This being my birthday week, I am becoming more and more aware of my age. I was standing in the grocery store check out line and my eyes fell upon a magazine that boldly proclaimed 40 is the new 30, 50 the new 40. You get the picture. I’ve never been blessed to look young. If I had written the headline for the magazine based on my life, the headline would have read 50 is the new 50. My wife in comparison to me still looks 15 years younger than me, yet we’re only one year apart in age. I try to convince her it’s because I’ve taken better care of her than she has of me. Funny when I tell her that she never says a word, she just walks away with hysterical laughter. I’m getting paranoid.
Oh I see the telltale signs of my own aging. My eyes look like they’re going on vacation because the bags under them are packed. Each year my nose gets larger. I figure in the next three years at my present growth rate, I ought to be able to smell soy sauce from Hanoi. Despite my loss of hair the rest of my body doesn’t seem to notice. That’s because I look like a cross between Sasquatch and a Chia Pet in my bathing suit. Does this depress me? Nope, not a bit. Why? Because I have what is called “perspective.”
Perspective is that little thing that opens your eyes to the bigger picture.
I was cleaning my computer cache’ of all my spam messages. Do you ever take note of what’s in your spam (junk) folder? If I had an opinion about myself based on the advertisements that are aimed at me, I’d be depressed and in therapy. Somewhere out in the blogosphere hundreds if not thousands of people are targeting me because they think I have garnered a huge Nigerian inheritance. They’re confident I’m a belly blaster using, scooter driving, on the prowl playboy with personal plumbing problems, looking for Russian women while operating an in-home business.
The real story couldn’t be further from the truth. My present reality is I’m dull and almost decrepit. In fact if I were a horse, I’d be on my way to the glue factory. I don’t have time nor the energy for extra frivolities.
However with my new perspective, I have a spring in my step. At least I can look in the mirror each day and know I’m not what my spam folder thinks I am.