Blurry lines - a dash or reality and age

We always read about how people view ageing and how they react to events that are the cause of ageing. TV Sitcoms use it as a punchline and many a-times we will use it ourselves at the expense of our aging relatives, friends, etc. What we don't realize is that we are heading for a head on collision course with the ageing, hair line receding and blurry vision dose of reality.

For example, I do notice that my hair is starting to thin at the top!! At least if its the hairline, I could pass off for the Bruce Willis look. If my hair thins at the top, I will have the a real old fart kinda look! Why????? The biggest issue though is my eye sight. I have near perfect eye sight and I can see clearly when its far away. But lately, anything closer than 1 feet looks like a bowl of oatmeal to me. Also any font smaller than a french poodle will look like intestinal worms to me.

I first realized this when I was having problem identifying the food on my spoon as it comes nearer to me. It could have a cockrach on it and I would think it's a chocolate chip cookie. Whenever I am in a fancy restaurant that has those menus with fancy fonts in italics and loopy tails, my eyes go into a protest and refuse to focus. So I will just point at some random loopy thingy and say to the waiter,
"I will have this."
"You will have the "5% government tax"?"
"Make it medium rare."

Otherwise I will ask the waiter to pls ask the nice folks at the next table to hold it up for me. Eventually, I had to get those dorky reading glasses that you perch at the end of your nose and peer over it if you want to see above you. I couldn't wear it proper else everything will look 3 times larger and my brother (who is already the size of some construction vehicles) will now look like a low rise building. That is just not right. Also I don't want to be bumping into things like those old black and white slapstick comedy shows acted by Harold Lloyd and Charlie Chaplin.

So I take it in my stride. If I can't see my food, I smell it. If it moves, it's not good. If the party at my table looks disgusted at me, something terribly wrong is happening between the spoon, food and my mouth.

So, we the 70s children are slowly but surely growing in farthood, whether we like it or not! I welcome all others 70s children to join me. Those of you who are losing or have lost hair, don't despair (hey, it rhymes!!). We all go in different ways. The trick is to stick by each other and not to end up looking like those our parents' generation when they get old. Wearing pagaoda singlets, light blue boxers, sarongs, t-shirt buttoned to the top and pants pulled up to our man-tities.