Who knew getting old was so humbling

When you become old and barren, as I am, you have those gentle occasional reminders that you aren't as spry or mentally on task as you once were. Can't complete a cartwheel without affording an injury. Can't leap over the big red cement ball at Target like your children do. Forget your badge when you have to work. Realize the grocery list lays helplessly on the counter in the kitchen when you arrive to Walmart.
Today I chose to work tirelessly outside in 100+ degree weather. Mowing. Weeding. Trimming. Grass clippings and dirt stuck to my moistened skin from hours of sweating. The sheer joy that ran through my body and mind when the tasks were complete and a cool shower awaited me. My clothes dropped like dead weight in the laundry basket, soaked with my inner sodium chloride liquified. The shower. Ahhhh the shower. The loofah springing forth with clean bubbly soap grazed over my skin. What....what is that that lay there on the floor of the shower. I cleanse my eyes of the lathered soap and water. And what appears before my aged vision? The mini pad that once was nestled and stuck to the cotton crotch of my granny panties. To my horror it has come to my attention that this dear generic Walmart pad, worn in hopes of catching that possible unfortunate moment of incontinence when I may sneeze or cough, migrated to my ass cheeks, unbeknownst to the apparent old nerve endings near my asshole, and slopped down to the drain at my feet.
That's life slapping you in the face saying 'fuck you fat ass'
#ishouldpenanautobiography