Aging

My Facebook photo is about 15 years old now.  If a person were to go by only that, then I seem younger than I actually am.  It is a bit like licence photo’s really.  I choose not to get a new one because it makes me look older.  Errr I actually am, but if they can live with it so can I.
Someone was going around the group I was in, saying how old he thought people were.  J was 75 apparently.  A young fella looked at me and I looked at him and I shrugged my shoulders.   So, I’ve had a hard life!
Actually, I cannot even use that excuse.  I have not really.  That was a few years ago.  Now I guess I would be giving Methuselah a run for his money.  Still, they reckon you can’t improve on perfection.  In this case I am not talking about me, but I thought I would throw it in in the hope it would make me feel better.  It didn’t.
I do wonder what people mean when they say, “act your age.”  I am not inclined to throw myself on the floor of the supermarket and scream and flail around to get my way.  Though that strategy might just work the once.  Shock value.
There is no doubt about it, this body is perishing.  Even a good service and tune up will not keep me from being a vintage item soon.  Though it is weird.  I may be getting older physically but inside I still only feel about 233. I mean 33.
They reckon grey hair is a sign of wisdom.  I wonder what lost hair is a sign off.
I am 62.  Why do I feel like I should be sitting in a circle of chairs declaring that, while others nod their heads sympathetically?  I should just be thankful to be 62 and vertical.  I actually am thankful.  Though once I was 30 and vertical.  That was better.
Still there seems to be this progression.  As studies have shown, people that have more birthdays live longer.  I have always found celebrating birthdays a double-edge sword.  I am happy to take all the presents I can get, but I’ve only ever gotten older with each birthday.  It has never been like I am 61 this year and 33 the next.  I would need to be a woman to remain like 29 forever.
I have so much to look forward to.  Like heaps of funerals.  Scrap that thought.  While it is true there are likely to be more from this time in, they are not something I look forward to.  Dad passed on at 97.  He gave up reading the obituaries because there was no one left but him.
They encourage me to age gracefully.  Getting an easier task to do would be better.  I have never associated deafness, partial blindness, stiffness and any other nesses as applying to gracefulness.  I guess though passing on gracefully is encapsulated in the guy that died peacefully in his sleep unlike the screaming and shouting passengers in his car.
It seems ironic that dying is a fact of life for everyone.  Thankfully, death has no sting for me.  I am not looking forward to it, but I am not afraid of it.