Hi! My Name is Sissy

Growing Old is Not for Sissies. You have likely heard this phrase before. That short statement resonates more meaning for me as fifty waves goodbye and sixty is seen up ahead. There is nothing silver coated or fur lined about passing the 55+ mark of life. The physical aspect alone is certainly not for sissies. Even fifty-something bullies beg for mercy when faced with the needle sticking, pill popping, early morning aches and pains our age has morphed us into. Though I'm thankful to even be walking, breathing and talking with some sibilance of sanity, it is clear to me that growing old really isn't for sissies.

All of those years of not sticking to my diet, has left me with little self control to eat healthy. Consequently, my body has grown comfortable and relaxed sitting 40 pounds heavier than my target weight. Alright, not so comfortable. Truth is my knees buckle under the added weight and anti-inflammatory medication now shares space with other over-the-hill drugs on my bathroom shelf. Wishing I'd climbed onto the health train a lot sooner, any energy I once had to exercise and eat right has unfortunately lost steam. There was a time aerobics classes was part of my weekly schedule. Now there is a Yoga book for people 50+ in years sitting on my bookshelf waiting to be perused. Seeking less strenuous forms of exercise that won't send my knees into permanent lock-down, Yoga seems to be the path to take.

In addition retirement is not for sissies either. Retirement is the oasis of growing old, tiny umbrellas in cocktails and all. We think we are going to do whatever we want, vacation, spend more time with friends and go to the Bahamas. Unfortunately, after the income is cut in half and the bills are not, those cocktails taste pretty bitter while the Bahamas becomes a fictional land far, far away. Having worked one profession for 35 years, searching for a part time job has now cut into my full time retirement. Nope, retirement is not for sissies either.

I wish I had great words of wisdom and answers to this plight, but I don't. Many jobs exist, though not in my field nor do I possess the qualifications needed. There are jobs I could take if I'm willing to stand on my aching feet 8 hours a day stocking shelves and pricing underwear, some evenings and weekends for an hourly wage. Office jobs available to me are either seasonal or pay below minimum wage. That's a big gulp after earning a master's degree and working 35 years in a professional career for a salary.

And to think, my mom used to nickname me "Sissy". *Sigh!* I'm just saying!