Mind and Body Disconnect: I Am Not Ready To Get Off the Stage!

I have a serious problem. I've searched every possible tech support site on the web, but none have been able to help. My dilemma? I have suffered a complete breakdown of communication between my body and my brain.

For some reason — seemingly overnight — my hips have become rocky, my knees creaky, and my bladder leaky. My upper arms have grown wings, my shoulders have developed a permanent slump, and my former teeny tummy is gone. Well not quite. It's still there, but it's now covered by what can only be called a belly. My boobs, like birds in the winter, have gone south. As for my face and neck ... ugh! I don't want to go there.

Amazingly, I usually am not aware of any of these changes — until I catch an unexpected glimpse of myself in a mirror or in a store window reflection. "Look at that poor old lady," is my immediate reaction. "Why doesn't she straighten up? And doesn't she realize how ugly those orthopedic shoes are?" Then it hits me — Oh my God, that's me! It's such a shock, because even though all my physical changes are accompanied by aches and pains I never used to have, in my head I'm still seventeen; and I look like Angelina Jolie — only younger.

Furthermore, in the fantasy world of my mind, I can still climb endless flights of stairs without losing my breath; I can walk — even jog — for miles; I can get down on the floor and, even more important, get up again. I can get in and out of a car without having passers-by rush over to help. When I go to an airport, attendants don't rush to greet me at the door proffering wheel chairs. Old geezers with walkers don't offer me their seats on crowded busses. And I can actually get out of a low chair without pushing with my hands. I can't, however, swim. But, then, I never could.

I'm also sometimes delusional enough to believe I'm still tall (where did those three inches I lost go?). And I can still eat whatever I want (pepperoni pizza ... five-alarm chili ... jalapeno poppers … buffalo chicken wings …) even at midnight — without chomping on Tums and without keeping a plastic bag under my pillow, just in case of a 3:00 AM visit from the nausea gremlin. This isn't as bad as it sounds because I'm usually wide awake at 3:00 AM anyway. Why? When did I become an insomniac?

At least my sleeplessness isn't turning my hair grey. It's still the vibrant brunette of my youth. (Okay, okay. I admit it. Maybe expensive monthly visits to my beauty salon have something to do with that).

When I was young (wasn't that just last week?), I always assumed that old people knew they were old — and they didn't really mind. After all, they had lived a long life. They were ready for it to end. But now that I'm old (it pains me even to type that), I realize how wrong I was. I have not lived a long life. No way could all those decades have flown by so fast. I can't speak for all the elderly, of course, but as for me, I usually don't realize that I'm old. When logic tells me that I am, I do mind; and I am not ready to get off the stage!

As you can see, I have a serious disconnect between mind and body — thank goodness. No way do I want to face reality. Instead, I'm going shopping. I want to buy a couple of sleeveless mini dresses, some skinny jeans with frayed knees, a pair of stilettos, and a new bikini, which I'm going to need when I start my surfing lessons next week.

Illustration: The Bella Rose Arts Centre's stage with the curtain drawn as seen from the left section of the orchestra. Photo by: Ryan Brownell, Wikimedia Commons

Rose’s books (If These Are Laugh Lines, I'm Having Way Too Much Much Fun and The Beautiful People & Other Aggravations, Pelican Publishing; and Grandmother Goose — Rhymes For a Second Childhood, Mindstir Media) are available on Amazon.com.

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Mind and Body Disconnect: I Am Not Ready To Get Off the Stage!

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