Grand Blanc, Michigan, United States
I have lived many lives and worn even more hats. I have been a bilingual secretary, a translator, a wife, a homemaker, a widow, a returning college student, a friend, an editorial assistant, and a writer and author. Among the many things I love are reading, writing, cooking, knitting, and engaging conversations with friends and my life companion, Chuck. I enjoy movies, TV, going into my garden in summer and picking fresh herbs for our evening dinner, browsing through my cookbook collection and making notes on the thousand new recipes that sound good and I would like to try. I always have a knitting project or three in the works, which I work on when we watch TV or sit out on the patio during the summer months, a book my on my nightstand that I am presently reading and twenty or thirty more on my immediate list of books waiting to be read, and a writing project begging to be worked on. The name of my blog, “Tinti Types” comes from Tinti, the nickname by which some members of my family have called me since I was a little girl. My education, like my life, has been varied. I graduated from Lincoln High School, in San Jose, Costa Rica; trained as a bilingual secretary from The American Business Academy, also in San Jose, Costa Rica; received my Bachelor degree from the University of Michigan-Flint in Communication, with minors in technical and creative writing. My hopes for my blog are perhaps as varied as the many roles I have played in my life. I hope it will offer a creative outlet for me and serve as a source of both, entertainment and information for my readers. Perhaps a tall order to ask of this medium. But like the characters in a story, who after a while take on a life of their own and end up taking their writer for an exciting and unexpected ride, so too, I hope that my blog will develop a life of its own and take me and its readers on an exciting and fun ride. I hope you go to my blog TintiTypes and we can visit often. Tinti

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DECEMBER 18, 2008 11:58PM

Getting Old Sucks

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Don’t believe a word of anything you’ve ever heard about the benefits or joys of aging. They are all nothing but platitudes and clichés at best, and in truth, outright lies and deceptions. The thing is, no one, and I do really, really mean, no one, either likes the idea of getting older or is enjoying the heck out of the whole getting older thing. Let’s face it, what is there to like about it? Oh, I know the whole, what are the alternatives thing? yeah, yeah, blah, blah. I get it, and I agree that being dead sucks a heck of a lot more that growing old.

Fine, so now that we’ve gotten that whole old B.S. argument out of the way let’s get down to reality, and reality is that I have never met anyone who is dancing for joy at the thought of aging. Why, I ask you would anyone like the idea of seeing your body doing things you never imagined in your worst dreams that it would do. It’s a total betrayal of all the care and attention you may have given it throughout your life. And I don’t care how much you’ve exercised, how well you’ve fed it, clothed it, moisturized it and pampered it. It is inevitable that eventually parts of it spread, sag, stiffen up, hurt, fall, widen, sprout unwanted hair, lose unwanted muscle tone, lose elasticity, and misbehave in a million other ways that you never saw coming.

When I look at pictures of myself in my 20’s and 30’s and look at myself now I wonder what the hell happened? What’s sad is that it creeps up on you. You don’t see the difference from one day to the next, or even from one week or month to the next. Yet one day you wake up and look in the mirror and you know that you are not the same person that looked in that same mirror, in really, what doesn’t seem all that long ago. Yet the mirror doesn’t lie. You are looking older. What used to be high cheek bones are now still high cheek bones, but the skin is no longer adhering to those bones. Instead, it has decided to migrate to the lower part of your face and become jowls, you know, those little pouches of flesh on either side of your chin, which by the way, is not as defined as it used to be either. And the same southern migration has happened to your eyelids, which are now threatening to fall over your eyes even when they are wide open. And the skin under “them eyes” isn’t staying put where it should either.

The same effects of gravity that are ravaging your face are taking their toll on all the other parts of your anatomy. And let me emphasize that the result of all that gravitational pull isn’t doing much to improve either your figure or your outlook on the future of that figure. And what’s with all the unwanted hair that sprouts from the weirdest places. And why does it do that? Just this week my sweetie had a piece of Kleenex attached to the side of his ear. When I asked him about this oddity he said he had cut himself.
“How?” I asked, “could you cut your ear?
“I was trimming the hairs growing out of my ear,” was his response. “It’s what happens when you get older, hair grows out of your ears.”
I must say, that is just plain wrong. Men have the double whammy of having to deal with the sad reality of thinning hairlines, and adding insult to injury, having to deal with their lost locks migrating from the top of their heads into strange territory, like the inside of their ears, nose and heaven only knows where else.

The other day a good friend of mine and I were talking about the whole aging thing and she said that she didn’t think that she could run anymore. She said she hadn’t tried it in a long time, but that she was sure that even if she had to run for any reason that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it. It got me thinking about it and while walking the track at the gym the other day I decided that I would try and see if I could do it. I took a few fast strides and then decided to reconsider the whole attempt to run since I don’t think that there is a sports-bra made that would be strong enough to protect me if I really tried to seriously give it a go. It saddened me because I remember a time when I could sprint with the best of them and get up to a pretty good speed in a short amount of time without having to consider whether parts of my body would sway out of control or go in opposing directions to the intended one.

And then there are the visits to the doctor. Those are really terribly depressing. Whenever you complain about something hurting you can be sure that the doctor’s explanation for whatever ails you will be prefaced with the words “well, you know, as we get older……” That’s when you know you are doomed. From this point on in your life those words will always be the explanation for the deterioration happening to whatever part of your anatomy that happens to be under discussion. And I don’t care if it is your digestive tract, a sore joint, moles sprouting, veins popping or calcium deposits shaking loose in your inner ear. It is all age related and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it from happening. It is going to happen. Why? Because you are getting old.

And then there are your conversations with friends. Notice how those change with age? As you get older whenever you get together with friends the conversation eventually and inevitably gravitates to the topic of which part or parts of your body are misbehaving and to what tortuous and humiliating medical procedure or test you will be shortly subjected to for the purpose of finding out why or what the problem is with said body part.

No, the whole myth of “getting better with age” only applies to wine, single malt and some cheeses. It most definitely does not apply to humans. Age is only fun from birth until somewhere in our mid-thirties. After that the fun part is over and the slide toward annoying and really annoying begins. I doubt there is a person out there who is truthfully not frightened of what getting older will do to them. I don’t think you can be sane and not be afraid of aging. It sucks. Some of us will age more gracefully and in better condition and health than others. But the bottom line is that we are all getting older by the minute.

So, with that comforting thought I will end this with the poem “Crabbed Age and Youth,” sometimes attributed to the Bard but officially anonymous, which perhaps tells it best:

Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age’s breath is short;
Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O, my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee:
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!
For methinks thou stay’st too long.

? by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from The Passionate Pilgrim, XII.


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Ah, yes. Getting older. There is NOTHING good about it. Repeat, NOTHING good about it. Finally, a woman after my own heart. Well-written and unfortunately, timely. I wrote a column about this a while back when I was younger. Hah!

I used to think that age brought wisdom along with wrinkles but I know that's not true from personal experience! I actually know less as I get older because I realize how much I don't know and probably never will know. The only thing, the one slight benefit that might come with the aging process is that you know you can survive just about anything because, damn it, you're still here.
Hopefully you have never had Cancer or any other desease that would make you pray to get older. You wrote a very good and entertaining blog. Very cute. I am 63 years old now and am so very grateful for all days above ground. I have already used more then my share of lives being so ill I was just happy to survive.
Hopefully your life continues with you just getting saggy and not near death.
To my way of seeing things, 63 has been a very good year. I lost my husband at 61, he was the love of my life. At 63 I found a new man, younger then I and a very very sweet person who does not mind that I am somewhat chubby, have only one hand and a very painful leg. Me, I am happy to be ANY age and I wish you the same with the rest of your life.
Having read your entire profile, it appears to me that you have so very much going for you. You should re-evaulate your stand on aging and make the best of what life has to offer.
As I think that this was written tongue in cheek. It was truly one of the funniest I have read today. If not... sorrow for you.
actually, there are a few minor compensations: some can be filed under "i don't give a damn!"

frinstance: the usa is falling into a black hole of economic disaster. i don't give a damn. the world is coming to an end, due to profligate use of resources and resulting pollution. i don't give a damn.

you get the picture. then there's 'free at last'. no more all night orgies, no more drunken parties, no more wild motorcycle rides. i prefer a good book and an early night, i'm free at last.

and if my manly chest is now a manly belly, why i don't give a damn, and, i'm free at last.

best of all, i can do things now i couldn't do before: no responsibilities, so no restrictions on my pastimes- danger is no longer a primary barrier.

i'd druther be young than old, but young was not unalloyed pleasure, have you forgotten? and old is not just misery.
Gotta disagree. I don't mind getting older. And I do have more wisdom and that means alot. You wrote only about the physical. What about the rest?

You sound like you have a wonderful life and that you don't have a major illness. If you gripe like that about things we all face you're going to have a problem when major problems come along.

Glass is half full for me, and that makes people around me quite happy. I know women who gripe and they start to turn others off.
Hang in there. Aging gracefully is beautiful. Enjoy each precious, earned wrinkle and forget about 30. You had it. You don't get to keep it. You have lots ahead.
Yikes! I appreciate the humor and somewhat reality of your viewpoint on aging.... but after reading through your profile, it certainly doesn't seem like you have a lot to complain about.

Go to a children's hospital sometime and watch 10-year olds slowly die. Then go back and read your blog. You may feel differently about it.
Don't most of the above comments have a sense of humor? None of you know anything about Writing Girl except the superficial trivia posted in her profile. You do not write your whole life story there. Good grief!! These comments are so preachy and so serious and at the same time deriding a post that is clearly one that pokes fun at self and at a stage of life where all too many people lose their sense of humor, as evidenced by these comments.
Find out what the other person has been through first before you do some knee-jerk judging and some asinine holy-than-thou preaching.
Three words: Enell Sports Bra.

I am a DDD.

I can jump rope in one of those suckers.


Otherwise, spot on, and yet, I am trying to adopt a certain zen about the loss of my physical peak, which was honestly never all that peak-y to begin with.