I have always taken pretty good care of my body. The underlying hope from all this care was that my body will get in shape. I will look and feel better from the effort.

I have reached an age (68) where I realize that no matter how hard I try that my body isn’t going to get better. The best I can hope for is maintaining what I have. I am beyond improvement. Indeed, chances are it will get worse and there is very little I can do about it.

Maybe some plastic surgery could buff up the exterior but I am afraid I’ve waited too long to get much benefit from it. Why go through a tummy tuck or a face lift and then drop dead the next day? If I am going to spend plastic surgery kind of money, I want to get plastic surgery kind of bang for my buck. So that ship has sailed.

I am trying not to be depressed about it because this is one of the many sad realizations you have as you get older. In the past I could look 20 years into the future and see a future. Now I think 88, there is a good chance I will be six feet under or spread across the Pacific Ocean (still haven’t decided yet).

There is no future really. Age forces you, at some point, to live in the moment. I don’t put things off any more. Things like saving money for retirement. Well, I am retired. What am I waiting for. Spend the fucking money now while I still can get some pleasure out of it.

Age is letting go of what you were. It is sad but also liberating. Fuck them. The good news for the rest of the world is that I don’t have a lot of energy for causing too much trouble. I won’t be leaping in and out of people’s beds, driving cars too fast, or robbing banks. Mostly I will just be a grumpy old man. But, on that, I can guarantee, so watch out.