It was all dancing and socializing and traveling and friends and fun. Life was a party until Aging showed up.
Of course, I knew Aging would be here at some point, just not so soon. And I didn’t even see him coming. For someone uninvited, he quickly made himself at home. He moved in and put his feet up – settling into my bones, joints, and other places, and Aging quickly got to work. Behind my back, Aging drank the color from my roots. When I was asleep, he stole a large number of strands, so I woke to a thinner mane. Speaking of thinner, Aging put an end to that. When Aging arrived, he did a great job of hiding all the baggage he had brought with him – a suitcase filled with weight gain, a weekender stuffed with increased appetite, a tote filled with thyroid-slowdown, and a sack full of slow metabolism. Tucked somewhere inside one of those carryalls, this unwelcome guest hid a cosmetic case holding a pouch of sagging and three kinds of wrinkles.
I’m not sure how long it’s been since Aging arrived. I’m more forgetful than I was before he got here, and I know who to blame for that because I saw a little case labelled ‘Memory Loss’ sticking out of one of his carryalls. Thank you very much. How did Aging sneak all that by me?
I would throw this uninvited guest out by the seat of his pants if I could, but I can’t. Grasping things is harder since Aging arrived. It seems my joints – especially in my fingers and hands – have become painful, distorted, swollen, and stiff. Coincidence? I think not. I am certain Aging has something to do with this. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Aging is responsible for my knees, too.
I let Aging move in, I give him the best years of my life, and this is the thanks I get. I’m not happy about it, so I had a sit-down with this squatter. I told Aging just how I feel about what’s going on right under my nose, which was the perfect time to mention my collagen loss and thinning lips.
Aging put his hand on my stiff shoulder and said, ‘You’re all wrong. You don’t see what’s happening here.’
The nerve. I’m dyeing my hair to cover the grey, wearing compression knee-highs, can’t digest lentils anymore, and Aging is telling me I don’t see what’s happening?
‘Relax,’ Aging said. ‘Look, if I weren’t here, you wouldn’t be either.’
‘What?’
‘If you wanna stick around, spend more time in this life, it’s gonna cost ya – a few extra pounds, a couple of inches of smooth skin, some mobility. But hey, small price to pay.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I told Aging.
‘Really, would you rather be dead or living with me?’
I thought for a minute: They’re making a sequel to one of my favorite films and I’d like to be around to see it. My granddaughter is just turning one. I ‘d love more time with her. So, Aging had a point. Who cares about thin lips when Practical Magic 2 is coming out in 2025?
‘I give up,’ I said. ‘You win. Take the 27-inch waist. Take the smooth skin and functioning thyroid. Paint all my roots grey, if you want. But promise me, please no post-menopausal bleeding.’
Aging sighed. ‘I can’t make promises. Anything can happen.’
It’s not much of a deal, but I suppose being able to wake up every morning beats having healthy finger joints.
So, Aging and I are roommates now. We try to stay out of each other’s way, but with both of us in this one body (even though it’s a much bigger body now), it’s hard. And, as with all relationships, it’s give and take. Some days he lets me amuse myself with memories of what it was like before he got here. I better write down the name of that movie.
Maureen Mancini Amaturo, NY-based fashion/beauty writer with a Creative Writing MFA, teaches writing, founded and leads Sound Shore Writers Group, and produces literary and gallery events. Her 100+ publications globally include fiction, essays, CNF, poetry, and comedy. Maureen was nominated for The Bram Stoker Award and TDS Creative Fiction Award. She received Honorable Mention and Certificate of Excellence in poetry from Havik Literary Journal. Her work was shortlisted by Reedsy and Flash Fiction Magazine for their Editor’s Choice Award. Funny Pearls UK named her work a best short story selection. A handwriting analyst diagnosed her with an overdeveloped imagination. She’s working to live up to that.