Nearing Fifty

I walked into the house the other evening and found the kids watching television while their mother prepared dinner. I plopped down on the bean bag chair next to them and asked what they were watching. They hesitated before answering, knowing that my query was almost certainly a rhetorical question, and there was a good chance I was going to attempt a change of channel. My children and I disagree completely on what to watch, and are always fighting over the remote. If they are going to waste their time watching television, I want them to take in an educational program. They, of course, want to watch something with no cerebral stimulation whatsoever.

They have started ganging up on me lately, and standing up for what they feel are their vested rights. I have informed them that our house is ruled the old fashioned way; as a benevolent dictatorship, and they had no inherent rights. The little smart alecks went straight to their mother and petitioned for protection under her constitutional monarchy. So much for his majesty's power base; while I was out administering my kingdom, I was over thrown! I guess the kids have been learning something after all. Oh well, I have decided I do not care for television anyway, too darn many commercials.

Speaking of commercials . . ., while the kids and I were scuffling and bickering, an advertisement for Bow Flex exercise equipment flashed onto the screen. The commercial featured a fifty year old grandmother who had no particular resemblance to anyone I have ever met with that many years behind her. I commented to the kids that this lovely lady looked a little too firm, proud and muscular to be fifty years old.

Pardon my skepticism, but due to my advanced age and personal experience with the effects of gravity, I viewed this advertising claim as highly unlikely. I told the kids I was sure Doctors Nip and Tuck were standing behind the camera, proudly admiring their handiwork. I wondered whether it was my aged eyes, or was the commercial actually out of focus. The slightly blurry photography seemed a great way to hide wrinkles. If this woman was real, she was a walking, talking miracle, living on rice cakes and carrot sticks, and spending every spare minute on that exercise machine.

Raising myself up from the bean bag, I hitched up my britches and headed into the kitchen to give a real, natural woman a hard time. I guess the commercial effected me the way it did because I find myself nearing 50, and feeling the effects of time. My outlook on life is rapidly evolving, and I often think more like an adult than an adolescent (scary stuff)! Lately my kids can't tell if I am serious or joking. How can they be expected to, I can't even tell myself. This situation has motivated me to read and study more; in an effort to keep my brain from disintegrating. I also spend a great deal of time talking with people. The trading post provides me the opportunity to visit and philosophize with a wide and varied group of individuals. I am constantly testing Steve's depth of knowledge on all manner of tough subjects. His new catch phrase is "Stop it, your freaking me out"!

Speaking with my friend the psychiatrist about my uncommonly strong reaction to this silly commercial provided me the insight I required, or not. She said I was simply jealous that this woman had the dedication and drive to accomplish her goals; that by finding fault with this woman, I was providing myself an excuse for not having the same commitment. She said it was time I did something about it too; that she was definitely ready for a new and improved husband, and that if I didn't quit coming up with elaborate excuses to check out the ladies she would slap a knot on my noodle. I never should have consulted her. All I need now is a Bow Flex, or at least a regular exercise program. That and a foggy lens, and I will look and feel great.

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