This ageing process proves sickening
I used to regularly hear old people talking about their ailments in great depth. Standing in a shop queue, I would eavesdrop. And pity them. They would start with the weather but couldn't wait to move on to various pains and aches and tragedies that had befallen acquaintances. "Did you hear about ..." sort of thing and then a detailed tale of woe would ensue.
They would also take all the coins out of their purse and get the assistant to pick out all the crud which takes ages. And then they'd be 20 cents short and have to break the note anyway.
I am now one of them. I find myself saying to my son when he visits "Do you know….". And before I can finish, he jumps in with "who is dead belonging to them".
I might add he says it in what he considers to be my dramatic, high-pitched voice. I might also add I don't have a high-pitched voice. I'm turning into one of those people who thrive on disaster.
At least I'm acknowledging it. Maybe I will be able to do something about it.
And I now have lots of those minor ailments. Any discussion about shoes involves me telling people about my bunions and the necessity for purchasing a wide-fit shoe. The pains in my knees when I'm coming down the stairs is a regular topic of conversation. My reflux problems also get a mention. And on top of that, I regularly burp right into people's faces.
Irritable bowel syndrome is right up there. I find myself explaining to people that I can't go for long walks in case I need a loo. Half the time, that's just an excuse. I just wonder why I don't just shut up and leave it to others to waffle on. I could just as easily say I don't feel like a walk.
I am now doing the coins in the purse thing as well. When did it all happen? I used to be a relatively happy-go-lucky person who just got on with things. Now I'm a whinger who counts out her coins, to the chagrin of everyone else in the queue.