I felt like my body had gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.
A reporter interviewing a 104-year-old woman: “And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?” the reporter asked.
She simply replied, “No peer pressure.”
The nice thing about being senile is you can hide your own Easter eggs.
Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the very elderly widow and asked, “How old was your husband?”
“Ninety-eight,” she replied. “Two years older than I am.”
“So you’re 96,” the undertaker commented.
She responded, “Hardly worth going home, isn’t it?”
I’ve sure gotten old. I’ve had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, and new knees. Fought prostate cancer and diabetes. I’m half blind, can’t hear anything quieter than a jet engine, and take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Have bouts with dementia. Have poor circulation; hardly feel my hands and feet anymore. Can’t remember if I’m 85 or 92. Have lost all my friends. But, thankfully, I still have my driver’s license.
An elderly woman decided to prepare her will and told her preacher she had two final requests. First, she wanted to be cremated, and second, she wanted her ashes scattered over Wal-Mart. “Wal-Mart?” the preacher exclaimed. “Why Wal-Mart?”
“Then I’ll be sure my daughters will visit me twice a week.”
My memory’s not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory’s not as sharp as it used to be.
Don’t let aging get you down. It’s too hard to get back up.