I accompanied My Beloved on a shopping trip this evening. After dinner we made a trip to one of her favorite spots, the big K store. No, not the blue one, the other one. As we entered I told her I would visit the men's section and she trotted off to hers.
I meandered around through the wonderful aisles of savings and made my way back to men's suits. Now, it has been years since I purchased a new suit, too long actually. I believe it was about the time Baby Sis and Mr. Krinkles said their vows. My Beloved thinks it was the year Beloved Father passed away. Either way, a good suit should last more than ten years, shouldn't it? At least I can still fit in it. (I guess that's not the same as it actually fitting).
I pulled a coat off the rack and slipped it on. It was comfortable. My usual issues involve jackets fitting under the arms and across the shoulders. I popped in front of a mirror and, bam! It hit me. Putting on that coat aged me ten years. Most middle-agers I guess see themselves about ten years younger than they are, but I now looked like my drunken Irish uncles of Sainted Mother's heritage. My face aged like Bill Clinton's and my jowls dropped an inch. Slipped the coat off and there I was again! Me, in my stylish docker style slacks and ribbed V neck shirt! On, off. On, off. Old man, younger man. It was amazing.
This vision was unsettling as I now looked like I could slide into an old Polaroid photo that never truly developed full color. Not the image I'm currently going for as both myself and N of 50 have dropped a few pounds and worked to maintain our awesome physiques. But I guess no matter how hard we try life marches on and the heritage we keep at some time blossoms forward.
But I'm not going down without a fight!