How I Learned I'm Old

Chin hairs. Arm wrinkles. Veins rising like swollen rivers on hands and the alarming incidence of prodigious postmenopausal gas. Welcome to the world of the aging female. HOW I LEARNED I'M OLD, a collection of humorous essays embedded with a smattering of serious insights, recounts a series of unsettling, amusing and magnificent consequences of what happens when middle age mysteriously and irrevocably departs out an open window. For this country's 38 million BABY BOOMERS, this book...
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Chin hairs. Arm wrinkles. Veins rising like swollen rivers on hands and the alarming incidence of prodigious postmenopausal gas. Welcome to the world of the aging female. HOW I LEARNED I'M OLD, a collection of humorous essays embedded with a smattering of serious insights, recounts a series of unsettling, amusing and magnificent consequences of what happens when middle age mysteriously and irrevocably departs out an open window. For this country's 38 million BABY BOOMERS, this book hits the bulls-eye. 'The New Party Game' (counting wrinkles on other women's faces), planning a pre-wake to ensure all fabulous accolades are heard before death, and a new, unscientific but perfectly reasonable test for dementia requiring Baby Boomers to recall the names of all the people they slept with in their twenties are but a few of the random, yet focused essays in the book. More serious subjects include an ode to deceased old boyfriends, values learned from unexpected sources and the gifts that well-earned wisdom bestows.Every chapter evokes laughter, because humor is the only reasonable antidote for the indignities awarded at a time in life that should be celebrated with endless awards and monumental shrines.