A Touching Metaphorical Tale

I was minding my own business one day when I felt what I believed to be someone tapping my shoulder from behind.  I turned around and saw no one.  “Hmm,” I said to no one in particular, as I shrugged and went back to my work.

A bit later, I again felt a tap on my shoulder, but this time it was more pronounced.  Maybe even forceful.  When I turned around, I saw, to my surprise, someone who looked exceptionally like me, except for a few differences I had never noticed in my own self.

She was my height and had my same hair coloring but with a bit more grey around the temples and sprinkled throughout her long brown locks.  “Definitely an older gal” I thought.  She also had reading glasses on her head, as if she had just used them and slid them up there ready for their next assignment.  “Poor thing.  She can’t even see when she wants to read an article on what the current dress trend is.  She clearly needs to brush up on that info.”

However, because I was feeling automatically friendly toward her, (she looked almost exactly like me after all!) I inquired, “Hello.  Who are you?”

“I’m you,” she replied, “only older.”

“Come again?” I queried.

“Oh yes, silly woman.  You haven’t noticed me, but I’ve been here for some time.  I’m the “Over 40” you,” she said with a slight mocking laugh.

I was perplexed.  At 44 years old and nearing 45, I had noticed a few minor changes, but though this woman seemed the same as me in many ways, she was also too unlike me to BE me.  Wasn’t she?

I wasn’t sure I liked this.  Or her.   Yet.

“Haven’t you noticed that sometime in the last two years or so, you couldn’t refocus far away after spending any time reading?  Don’t you remember you went for your first eye exam EVER and the doc prescribed reading glasses?”

Of course I remembered!  The audacity!  The look-alike went on to imply that just because the glasses currently lived in the bottom of my purse didn’t mean that I didn’t need them.

“And how about those “infections” you had last year?  Remember those?”

Oh!  You mean the UTIs I elegantly received right during two different holiday seasons?  You bet I remembered!  The first time I EVER had one had been last year at Easter and it was followed at Christmas by another excruciating one.

“That was you?” I implored with a rising sense of strong dislike.

“Oh yes, honeybun!”  But there was more.

“You didn’t think that was a coincidence did you?  And what about 3 miscarriages in as many years?  After 7 healthy, no-problem pregnancies and births, you didn’t think “Over 40” had nothing to do with it, did you?”

“Ummm…”

As she continued candidly, my indignation grew, and I told her so.  “What is wrong with you lady?  Do you have some horrid self-hate?  I mean, I am YOU after all, and this seems a little self-defeating!  (What other big words did I learn in freshman psyc to screw this woman down?)  You are self-sabotaging you know?  Why bring this down on me?  I mean You?  I mean Us?”  This conversation was confusing.

“Oh Bonnie, don’t act so put out.  You saw these things happening.  You just ignored them!” she remonstrated.  “You noticed that for the first time in your entire life you had a horrible itching “down there”.  You knew you’d never had a yeast infection before turning 40!  Don’t act so naïve!  Your friends are experiencing all this too, and you’ve all talked about high blood pressure, pre-menopause, hot flashes, thyroid issues, pre-diabetic issues.  C’mon!” she admonished.

I was still skeptical.  “But those are unrelated issues.  And some of my friends are quite a bit older than me, (6 years counts, right?) and some of them have had these issues for a while.  Certainly before turning 40.”  I felt justified and more confident the more I thought about it.

“Sure,” she condescended.  “And none of those issues have escalated after 40, right?  And new issues haven’t surfaced, sometimes with alarming speed, right?”

She had me there.  With growing concern I inquired, “Well what am I, uhhh, are we, going to do about it?”

With a sense of calm and soothing encouragement she replied, “Almost nothing.”

I realized at that moment how I had grown to trust this woman’s judgement.  She seemed so … grown up.  So wise.  I think I even admired her.  So I continued my questions.

“Why aren’t YOU worried?  And doing ‘almost nothing’ sounds really dumb by the way.”

 “Well, you get your symptoms checked out, like when you got treatment for the UTIs, and then you live with the ones that are here to stay, like your saggy arm skin.”  She seemed a little snippy.  “You put up with the occasional lack of bladder control and do less jumping around, coughing, and sneezing without proper “protection” in your undergarments.  And you don’t think there is any need to change your evolved, "matured" opinion about music, movies, and tv programs of our current age do you?

“Heck no!" I replied emphatically.  "There was a day I was into all of those things.  But I was young and stupid then.”  I continued to consider.  “Of course in MY youth,” I reminded her, “those things weren’t so pointless, violent, and lacking in morals.  I mean, entertainment wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot more obvious what was being touted as right and wrong.  The immoral stuff was less graphic and insidious.  We didn’t like that kind of stuff.  But kids today…” I trailed off, as I caught a glimpse of her countenance.  She had a sly smile, and a know-it-all look on her face.

“You do realize you sound like an old person, right?”

“Well aren’t you high and mighty?” I rebuffed.  “YOU are me, too, so I guess you’re putting yourself down!  Ha!”   This was getting tricky.

“Yes, but I’m okay with it,” she replied with a hint of irony.

Slowly, I began to see her point, and I realized that all the things I didn’t like that “Mrs. Over 40” had brought with her, were just part of getting all her glorious confidence and wisdom of experience.  Yes, I dressed for comfort more than style!  (far more practical and accommodating than heels, tight jeans and short skirts) Yes, I hate most of what our culture dishes out, but I’m more discerning and understand WHY it sucks.  Yes, I don’t remember words I want to use in conversation, but my vocabulary has grown to...enable me to…pick out….other words to use in their place!  HA HA!  And Yes, I may sound arrogant to the young (or maybe everyone else!), but I feel very certain that anyone who wants to pick my brain will be rewarded for their efforts because I too have screwed up royally and been stupid, but the difference between me and the ignorant 20-somethings is I have learned from it and already had multiple opportunities to try again and get it right!

(stupid.  sorry, it is.  no wait.  I'm not sorry.)

 So, I made my peace with that amusing, slightly cynical, self-assured middle-aged lady, gave her a grateful hug, and invited her to stay.  She can be completely lacking in sympathy (“Stop your whining about how the kitchen looked before you went to bed!  What do you think, everything will get done everyday?” I heard her tell me yesterday), but she is almost always sincere and she knows a lot of …. (Um, what’s the word?)… stuff.