PERFORM LIKE YOU’RE 20 AGAIN!

This was the title of an email which recently hit my inbox.  Since I’d just had a performance in LA and struggled with my arthritic fingers on guitar, I wondered what secret lay inside.  I clicked on it.  Turns out, the ‘performance’ it referred to was not on stage but rather in the bedroom.  It pictured a guy holding his grossly, oversized penis.  I felt sorry for him.  That’s an awful lot to have to carry around.  

What was I thinking?  There is no going back.  We are irrevocably stuck where we are.  Not only that, we are also victims of ‘temporal discounting.’  That is, we pay little heed to the future as it’s ‘not real’ to us yet.  Countless studies to help young people save money have proven futile.  However, when given ID cards which age them into older versions of themselves, they take it more seriously. 

I don’t need a phony ID to show me what I’ll look like when I’m old.  At 70, I don’t even need the mirror, just the people around me.  Recently, I passed a man who said: “Wow.  From behind you look half your age!”  How do you respond to that?  Yesterday, walking through a tourist area in Sedona, I saw a young gal dancing outside her shop.  So, I waved and danced along with her.  When I asked her for directions, she abruptly said, “Hey.  I’d love to give you a free eye lift.  Would you like one?”  Um.  No thanks.

An acquaintance of mine who heard I play guitar recently said to me, “Wow.  You can still play the guitar at your age?”  Yes, I can darlin’.  In fact, I can still dance, feel the sun on my skin, have sex, do handstands, laugh, make friends, learn new things, take chances and dream.  You name it and I can pretty much still do it, albeit a bit slower.  And while I’m not as physically lovely as I once was, I’m infinitely wiser, more sensuous, deliciously experienced and flagrantly unflappable.  

For the record?  I have no desire to lift my eyes, my breasts or my butt.  They’re perfect just as they are and I love every, fabulous inch of them.  I don’t care what age I live to just as long as I really LIVED the day I died.  Besides, in dog years I’m only 15.