Yes, balance. Balance is the main reason (I have successfully convinced myself) why I have grown this enormous, room-filling belly. It's in order to provide a counter-weight for my genetically vast buttocks. Yes, that must be what's happened, alright.
In the interests of balance, therefore, I have decided to do a counter-post to my previous one; a post which highlights the advantages of being a man of my age, temperament, size and baldness.
It is for example, quite wonderful that:
- people at home and at work now expect me to have missed a few whiskers here and there when I shave.
- I can ignore annoying little shitheads when they speak to me, and plausibly pretend to have simply not heard them.
- I can wear more than two pairs of spectacles at one time (one on my nose, the other perched upon my head) and not arouse any questions as to why I am doing so.
- my trousers/jeans can be any shape I want them to be (baggy, tight, snug, etc.); so long as I am not exposing myself - nobody cares any more.
- I can - in fact I have few choices left - now wear shorts that look like the bottom of each leg has a wire hoop inside it.
- young women (with whom, I must confess, I very rarely have any contact) no longer regard me as a viable member of the male gender, and therefore, as any kind of threat/potential creep - this makes everyday conversation much less stressful on the infrequent occasions that it occurs.
- I no longer have to engage in silent speed competitions with any little rip-shit in a blinged-out Honda/Nissan/Subaru who has the temerity to overtake me on the highway. I can instead allow him to perpetuate his illusion that he is a better driver than me, hahahahaha - oh, the hilarity.
- underwear is simply underwear...it is for wearing underneath my one-size-fits-all elasticated waist jeans/cargo pants/khakis, and serves absolutely no other purpose whatsoever.
- I can make as much noise as I want when I sit down into, or get up from, anything lower than a bar stool.
- I can take a nap at any time of the day without having to explain why I'm tired.
- My doctor describes me as 'strapping' rather than 'a shambling, pathetic excuse for a man of your age'.
- I know what I'm having for breakfast every day: two blood pressure tablets, one cholesterol tablet, and a big chunk of insulin. No troublesome choices are necessary first thing in the morning...
All joking aside (not that I have been), there is one over-riding wonder of being fifty one years old, and it's this (brace yourself for sincerity):
I've been very fortunate so far to have lived an active, interesting and varied life; one filled with many experiences. Some of those experiences are of the kind that I'd rather never have had, but we all have those moments in our lives. Instead, I focus on the reality that I've so far had a life filled with laughter, love and the kind of gentle enjoyment that I wish for. Being this old is a privilege not granted to all of us, and I genuinely recognize that every day. I want to reach a grand old age (the odds are a little against me, but I'm going to give it my best effort), and if I can continue to get the same kind of enjoyment out of life as I have had so far, I shall be a very lucky man. Thank you, universe for the ride so far - it's been a slice, but don't forget; there's plenty of life left in the old, farting, pot-bellied bald bastard yet.