I barely have one foot in my 50’s and I’m quickly realizing it’s a downhill slide into everything old. You’ll recall the random carding for the senior discount whilst purchasing a bit of the Jesus Juice. Good times. I chalked that up to improper screening of employees at the hands of Food Lion management. Good help is so hard to find these days. Some time has passed and I’m recovering quite nicely. Which just means the wine did it’s job. I convinced myself nothing like this would happen again for at least a few years. Or would it?
I bring you to the gym. Because you probably need to go. I go twice a week to realign my fat cells so I can be called things like “muscular” “thick” and “big boned.” While not ideal, it beats fat. It requires some effort on my part and I don’t love it. I have to get up super early to avoid the meat heads and the chicks wearing the leggins with the built in butts. Apparently they are all the rage. Luckily I don’t need this sort of apparel. I grew my own thank you. I’m a bit of a frugal fatty like that. Gotta save where you can. There are so many things about these 2 groups of people that fascinate me. The Meatheads make random groaning sounds and slam weights. Why? Just why? You are not hot or cool….mmmmmkay. So quiet the fuck down and stay out of my way. The ass chicks bend over a lot to see who might be checking them out. I am. That’s who. Maybe not the audience you were looking for but I get bored riding the bike and enjoy a good shit show. No pun intended.
When I’m not watching fat bottom girls making the gym go round, I look around for other distractions. Listen. 30 minutes on a bike is a long time. I bore easily. This one particular day I noticed a sign in the window for some sort of fitness competition. The little voice in my head that leads me to believe I can do these sorts of things was intrigued. So I wiped my sweaty (real) ass print off the bike and headed over to check it out. The first thing that caught my eye was the date. April. Plenty of time to pump up the jam. Then I saw the registration fee…$20. Totally in the budget. So far I’m loving this! Next my eyes trailed on over to the age requirement….50+. Saaaaaaweeet! I have a fighting chance of doing anything when the 20 somethings aren’t involved. I like to think I wasn’t an asshole in my 20’s but I’m pretty sure I was. Sorry not sorry. Moving right along, I see I can register online. Excellent. The element of surprise is key in these sorts of situations. I was grabbing my phone to sign up when I saw it….
Because it wasn’t the boldest, largest print on the flyer or anything?! “Senior Games.” What kind of hot shit hell was this?! Trickery at it’s finest! I looked the whole thing over again thinking there must be an old people category AND a “me” category. Apparently not. 50+ “THE SENIOR GAMES” = ME. What the actual fuck?! Someone was definitely fucking with me. Yes I am fuckety fuck fuck fucking my way through this story. Deal! Let it be known….I will drop a meathead and/or an ass bitch for some hot shit like this. I looked around. Who was I kidding? Meat boy and butt bitch weren’t clever enough to pull this off. I decided to keep perusing to see what else I might have missed. Uggghum. Oh yeah… lest we forget the qualifying events: Disc Golf, 5k run, Bridge and Croquet. Oh my sweet baby Jesus! Some real nail biters right there…. How does one train for Bridge exactly?
It took me a minute or 10 before I could breathe again. I was staring at a train wreck. “My” people were only capable of throwing frisbies and and playing cards? How did I go from running ultra marathons… to playing Bridge and Croquet? I can’t be sure. But there I was. Standing in the gym holding my phone signing up for the Senior Games. Finally a chance to medal in something. I haven’t quite decided which event screams “ME.” Given my current fitness level I’m going Bridge but I know that to be a super old people sport. I don’t need that kind of competition. I’m leaning towards Croquet. I don’t even know what that means. It sounds European. Europeans like wine. And I like wine. So I’m thinking it’s a good fit. Please pray for me. I wasn’t prepared for my “Inner Oldie” to replace my “Inner Fatty” quite so soon. Jesus take the actual wheel. Amen