So, here's the thing...
I turned 70 recently.
No, not the number of times I turned dirt in my garden.
No not onto a Hwy.
It's age.
I am now fucking 70!
I could apologize for the language but apparently at 70 one doesn't have to.
I wasn't crotchety in my 60's but I think 70 and up creates a whole new level of telling it like it is.
Gal at a counter says- "Can I help you sir?"
I say- "When I'm good and fucking ready sister. Stop talking!"
Now, I wouldn't do that- ever.
I am really Mr. "Nice Guy".
In fact I am known for it. It's just I feel a little more freedom in what I could say- not what I would say.
Believe me, I have known folks who thrive on belittling others.
Those who are cranky and cantankerous. Not nice humans.
Those types are vexations to the spirit.
So here I sit in my 71st year- it just keeps getting better doesn't it? I mean I order my A10 blonde hair colour through WalMart so I don't have to have it displayed in my shopping cart as I shop the cat food aisle.
There's a dead giveaway to old age.
A man shopping for cat food.
Apparently, my body will start to age even faster now.
I'll have to use mega bottles of face cream.
I'll have to walk more. Bicycle more. Watch what I eat a little more than in the past.
Will my "tits" start to sag in this decade?
(Some Gay men call their chest or pecs- tits.)
So far, they have not.
They are both rather perky and look pretty damn good in a semi-tight, white tee shirt- if I do say so myself...for being 70.
I need to do a few more pectoral exercises.
Lean forward. Grab each forearm and push and push and push. One, two, three...
This exercise works- if your wondering.
I've used it for years.
This is not me. It's a reasonable facsimile- in my mind!
I wonder if I'll be a Daddy Fag who still ogles men whenever I get the chance?
Probably...
Case in point a new neighbour has built a pool. I see him and his friends in their boxer trunks splashing around. Sitting in the sun with drinks in hand slapping their tanned thighs when someone tells a funny.
What the hell happened to Speedos? Why are they only prolific on Australian beaches?
I am dying to ask the neighbour if he's been "Speedo Shopping". You know- in jest of course.
So 70.
Seventy.
65 plus 5= 70.
80 minus 10=70
The way I see it, I'm on the downside of the mountain but I'm digging in my heels to slow my descent.
Is 70 the new 50?
I'm not sure.
If one is healthy and happy, then yes. I am sure it's a whole different kettle of speedos if one is not well and suffering from a half dozen health problems.
That photo at the top of my blog by the way is me from 5 years ago. It was taken by Seanna Kreager.
Seanna lives in Ottawa and I live on Vancouver Island. Too much distance for a photo shoot.
I am going to get a "headshot" done now I'm 70.
Egads!
That could be scary but photographers can play with light and smooth things out- just a little.
Can't they?
Oh vanity, thy name is Rob.
Why change now?
I'm 70....
