Looking In the Mirror, There’s Your Problem
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
Last Tuesday I was Hollywood beautiful, complexion clear with just a hint of tan courtesy of our faint winter’s sun, six-pack abs, the envy of male models everywhere, my legs, muscular and slim not unlike those of the top Olympic runners, my hair long and exceptionally healthy with just a touch of gray highlights adding to its beauty.
The last time we were on a cruise, the Captain suggested I sunbathe in the center of the ship only since the scads of women gathering around me was interfering with the ship’s navigation. My baby blue eyes, once compared to those of the late Paul Newman, were astonishingly clear and bright.
When I jogged up to the post box to pick up the mail, the neighbourhood housewives physically pushed and shoved to walk behind me. Quite frankly the ‘oohing and awing’ was a little embarrassing.
In short, I was an Adonis.
And then came this morning, I looked in the mirror and I am a mess. My cheeks (both upper and lower set) are covered with spots, warts, skin tags and what looks like moon craters. My six-pack abs have been replaced with what appears to be a beer keg and my toes, once featured in a host of Italian shoe advertisements, are now gnarled and bunioned like those of the three witches of Macbeth. A speed bump has developed under my right eye, annoying and unsightly, but at least it complements the larger one under the other.
The hairs in my nose appears to have thickened. Ordinary scissors won’t touch it and this morning Mary had to go at them with garden shears.
Something has happened to my manly chest, it now rivals that of the late Jayne Mansfield. The Maidenform Company is sending a specialist up with recommendations. The Nemo Girdle Company offered me a modeling contract with hope I am the beginning of a new trend in physical fitness.
We had to replace the springs on the driver’s side of the car and John, my all-knowing mechanic, is recommending I buy new tires every six months. Goodyear said ‘go ahead’ but refuses to cover them under their warranty program.
In short I have gone all to rat-poos.
I can’t understand it. I haven’t been to the United States where such blemishes and aberrations are common among MAGA Republicans and those of their ilk. I rarely drink beer unless it is forced on me so that isn’t a factor in my physical deterioration. I haven’t touched bourbon since Mr. Ford told us not to. I was tempted once when a friend offered me a sip of Wild Turkey 101 purchased before the provincial ban. Instead I poured his whole bottle in the sink. That was moments before he had some sort of a breakdown and the police came and took him away. He is doing much better in OSMH where he resides in a rubber room under 24 hour supervision. Apparently he calls out my name quite often and they have been forced to sedate him.
Could it be I am getting old? I will soon be 89 and that can’t be good. I read somewhere even the very best of us eventually fall apart. It appears to have happened to all my friends; but I am too polite to mention it and just snicker or fake a coughing fit when the subject comes up.
I suppose it’s possible. I meet with a bunch of friends from high school once a month and our numbers are dwindling. The servers are now asking us to pay in advance since we might not make it to the end. This week they added gruel to the menu in case we forget our teeth.
The pharmacy phoned the other day to see if I was okay since I hadn’t been in with a new prescription for over a week. They didn’t know whether to send a get-well card to the house or flowers to a funeral home. I am now on the mailing list of morticians from as far away as Baffin Island. (They are the cheapest since all it involves is finding an ice floe. The polar bears look after the rest.)
The census came in the mail last week. When I sent in the form saying there are two people living in our house, they didn’t believe me and asked Angie and Mark next door to slip over and check. Unfortunately we were downtown at the time so they said ‘no’.
(Image Supplied)
