Thoughts on getting older

Another birthday under my belt. Wow, fifty seven years old. To be honest I feel like an imposter. A young perhaps a bit immature, liberal minded thirty something woman in a 57yr old(hence forth to be known a FSYOs)body. FSYOs should be fairly sure of the way they feel about life, be wise with all their experience, and know definitely whether they believe in life after death. They shouldn't be waffling between about complete surety one day, and total skepticism the next. Also FSYOs, in my view, shouldn't relish gobbling down candy with as much relish as the little girl in me enjoys doing. And I still can't knit. Shouldn't a woman my age be knitting themselves silly, preparing entire layettes for grandchildren, present or future? At present, it appears I'll never have any of those so there's no sense even learning to knit, probably biting my lower lip needlessly in the attempt. Perhaps it's all my fault, this grandchildlessness. The great Planner doesn't see me as being a mature enough FSYO to be the grandmother to any child...Ah well, so be it. I won't need to worry about him/her attending a crystal meth/ecstacy party when he/she is thirteen either. Something to be said for freedom from that worry when I am seventy.
Yesterday, with a couple of friends, I attended the Superwalk for Parkinson's at Polson Park. There were about 50 of us there, a somewhat sad showing for a common disease. I guess it just isn't as trendy as, say, breast cancer, or any cancer for that matter. Most people(although not all) with Parkinsons are elderly and get hidden away in nursing homes or other sorts of facilities. The young(of whom I now know three (including MJF)) who get it are however are severely impacted in their lives and because it isn't such a trendy ailment, it is not as socially acceptable as the aforementioned conditions.
After the walk we went to brunch out at Friesens. While there, I saw a man, a very young man, perhaps 22 or so, who had a facial deformity that I have only ever seen on TV. His face was grossly enlarged and contorted, with nodules protruding from every surface, some type of tumor I would assume(neuroblastoma?) It appeared that he couldn't speak normally, and even eating appeared to be somewhat of a challenge. He was with a friend and the most amazing thing about it was that he appeared like he wasn't aware that he was any different that anyone else! I wanted so badly to study him, go up to him and ask him what it felt like to be so different yet appear not to care. To ask him from whence he obtained his confidence or was it just plain courage??? But studying him would be perceived as rudely staring, and compassionate interest would be interpreted as morbid curiosity. Sheesh, and here I am continually being self conscious about some part of me, well, mainly my larger than average rear end, and I often imagine that people speaking are rudely or laughing about me. Really, is that mature??? Is that what other FSYOs do? I doubt it, but like I always say , i yam whadiyam! Perhaps some day I will get to that stage in my life where I am totally confident and content about who and what I am. I keep getting that poetic email from people, that implies that I should be there by now. Am somedays I feel totally like that, not giving a shit about what people think of me, physically or otherwise, and then those other days... I can't even blame it on hormones anymore as i am clean out of those. So perhaps I am destined to remain permanently (although sporadically) immature and unsure of who and why I am...In the meantime, I will go day by day, keep my chin up, as it makes the 2nd and 3rd ones less conspicuous. Often I find if I focus more on others, rather than myself, I am much happier, and generally if I spend to much time thinking about myself and my shortcomings, I get grumpier and more depressed. So I work at it, and especially now on the threshold of retirement, it will be a challenge for me to utilize my time in a creative and productive manner, and to stay out of that rut of self deprecation.