Excuses...the word that draws a line in the sand

We see it on memes regularly. The ever-so-fit mother of four with a six-pack asking "what is your excuse"?! This draws the line in the sand. Camp 'six-pack' cheers and is motivated to continue the clean eating and early morning workouts. While camp 'scars-earned' join together to defend enjoying their life and the body motherhood helped to design. Whichever your camp there are physical changes that occur regardless. I know, because I have gone camping at both sites. Neither my kale dinner nor my loose track pants have saved me from :

My bladder.  Or rather, what is now a walnut sized holding tank for my urine. It is a new magical organ. Even after having emptied my bladder, it can and WILL hold onto just enough urine to make coughing, jumping, laughing, and farting (yes, I do that sometimes) a stressful moment. I now watch adult absorbant undergarment commercials with interest.  I have also rid my closet of light coloured pants (nothing says accident like a pair of grey sweatpants). 

Chin hair.  Or the rogue neck hair. WTF (why the face!?). I am a fair haired individual. Blonde, fine arm and leg hair (which I do shave), and ONE neck hair that is black and could very well be classified as a rhino horn. It too has a magical existence. One day it is gone (I know it is gone because I have plucked it from its rooted position and searched for its reappearance daily and dilligently) only for it to emerge as a lone soldier, standing at proud attention a half inch long. Come on!! 

Eyesight. I have great eyesight. 20/15. Better than 20/20...however, as of late it seems to need to get warmed up before it works. No amount of rubbing my eyes in the morning will remove the blur. Reading small print on labels is a test of arm length. Bringing small print in closer to my face only gives me a double chin (I know this to be fact because I have seen my reflection on my iPad screen).  

Soreness. I am not talking about the muscle aches from a hard workout, I am talking about the injuries and muscle use from decades past. Perhaps it was the sprained knee from University basketball or the strained elbow from the biking mishap in elementary school. It may rear its ugly head when the weather changes, when I am sitting on the floor, or when I am having a cocktail. For no reason other than to have me say 'arghhh' out loud when I attempt movement.  

My excuse?! I don't have one. Probably because my memory is also shot. I defer to my children for statistics and recall. I used to have a memory. I used to know people's names, where I went on spring break and what I had for breakfast. Now, unless I write it down, take a picture, or have somebody remind me... I do not have a clue. I should have the kids wear name tags, as I rarely get their names right on the first attempt. 

No matter your camp, it is coming....age. If we are lucky we get to celebrate another birthday. We can erase the line in the sand and take comfort in the knowledge that no amount of cardio and self love will erase the crows feet. We are the same. We do not need to call out the other camp or defend our way of reaching our next birthday. We can celebrate. Together. 

Stay happy and healthy

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