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Forearmed (3/4+)
by Doug Hawley

I recently wrote a very negative Short Humour story about reaching of a century. In the interest of unfair, unbalanced fake news, it’s time to look at the pluses.

Starting at the top, I still have some hair on my head. Neither bald nor lush of pate, I have see-through hair. I have a non-surgical cure for male pattern baldness consisting of thinning on the crown and receding in front. Part hair from ear to ear and comb hair forward and back from the part, thereby alleviating both problems. I expect to make millions by marketing this scheme.

Because I’m thick skinned (physically only), my crow’s feet are from baby crows, my hands are pre-claw, my neck pre-turkey, and little of my skin has turned to crepe. My beard isn’t much, but it has improved over the last sixty plus years.

I have the forearms of a sixty year old, barely spotted, and much the same size that they have been for sixty years. My editor claims that my shoulders have grown up since we got married, and one still works. Better yet, I’ve got the body of a twenty year old. I keep it in the refrigerator for midnight snacks – apologies to those who have heard this before, and to those who have not.

After we pass up some things on the way down, nothing to see here, south of my Equator we find strong calves above trim ankles and feet with an excess of arch.  I’d better dial this back; I’m starting to be aroused.

Physically, I do a fair amount, including but not limited to, chasing the cat, bad yoga, and fair hiking (five miles is the new ten miles).  What I call my knee bracelets have given my arthritic knees a few more miles.  I can still lift my own weight, as I prove most days by climbing out of bed. I improve my mind by writing drivel such as this, learning 1% of what I need to know to make a website, and most importantly ignoring politics, celebrities, “reality” and talk shows. I’m winning by deteriorating slower than most of my peers, although we know people who have been active into their late eighties.

The parental units made it for a few years past my age, so I’ve got that. I don’t get bruises, headaches, stomachaches or colds anymore (just continuous congestion). 

Possibly the best part of my reclining years is freeing my inner curmudgeon.  Consarn it “they” is plural, impact is a noun, “at the end of the day” is a time and issue is not the same as problem.  We haven’t had a good president since Eisenhower. Of course you are faster than me, you’re a youngster.  I find from talking to other elderly people I’m not the only one claiming advanced age when it works for me, and ignoring it when it doesn’t.

If I do check out soon, the way the world is going; it may be a good thing.

Get off my yard, you dang hippie.

Short bio – For more so-called humo(u)r, see his listing in Short Humour, or his whole oeuvre (whatever that is) at website  which allows one to limit the pain by including word count.