"I'm Sorry- They Don't Make Replacement Parts For That Model Anymore"

I'm 51 years old.

I've got streaks of gray hair, smile lines around my eyes and mouth, frown lines between my eyebrows, and some sort of weird turkey neck thing going on between my chin and collarbone.

I've been fighting the last 10 pounds of babyfat since having my last baby...almost 11 years ago.

Nothing on my person could be described as "perky" anymore, and somewhere along the line my upper arm muscles sank and are now mere jelly swaying in a dismaying arm-skin-hammock.

Eight years ago I had surgery to tuck up or remove everything and anything that could drop out of me, because gravity is NOT my friend and it all had.

Not. A pretty. Sight.

In the morning, I used to just "get up" all of a piece and now every individual limb needs to think about it first, then acts grudgingly after careful consideration.

One part at a time.

Things like stamina, endurance, and the ability to get worked up over anything less than an absolute and verifiable catastrophe have become fading memories and for the most part it's alright- Life is All About Change.

I've taken everything with as much grace as an ol' pear-shaped hippiechick can muster and actually was very comfortable with the obvious aging of the body I was dealt this time around

Until

One evening three summers ago we came home from work and running errands, did the chores, made supper and sat down to an easy but mouth-watering dinner of tacos.

I was hungry.

I took the first bite.

Delicious- tender beef, mixed lettuces, grated cheese, sour cream, onions, taco shells still warm and crunchy without being tough...

Hmmm.

What's this?

*Ptooie*

And I was looking at my own tooth in my hand.

Nothing so far in my entire life made me as aware of the aging (also known as "deterioration") of my mortal corpse as looking at a piece of it in my hand.

Staring at my tooth, all I could think was "This is it- the beginning of the end. One by one my parts will fall off and/or out and soon I'll just be a pile of random debris swept into a corner".

That was over three years ago.

I have a crown where that tooth was and my tongue is ALMOST used to its being there.

Even though I've come to terms with the loss of my tooth, I now take a few moments each morning before rising to do a quick inventory as each limb grumbles into motion.

Just to be sure everything's still, yanno, attached.