Danger- Parts Not Securely Attached

I'm getting old.

I think I've mentioned that before, but I can't remember.

Because I'm getting old.

Yanno, I don't really mind most of it. Most of it is actually pretty cool.

I don't mind the wrinkles- they remind me of the smile lines around my grandmother's eyes.

I'm making peace with the fact that I'll never weigh 125 pounds again, and am shooting for 130 135 140 and will call it good.

I ache and pain and move slower than I used to. It sort of sucks that I can't leap out of bed in a single bound and I'm not as...limber as I used to be.

I don't despair at the gray hair. My Youthful Hair wasn't any color to write home about.

But I'm pretty sure I've already discussed all this here.

Pretty sure.

Here's what I'm (almost) positive I haven't shared, but have been goaded into action by the bravery of a fellow blogger discussing some personal yet apparently universal shit on her own blog.

The one thing I cannot abide about getting old is the crap that gravity has done.

Here's why I'm gonna share this. Not because it's time for a TMI moment, although it'll clearly be TMI for most readers.

*No- I'm not posting a photo of my kidney stone...again.

Back about a decade ago, shit started falling out.

I'd never heard of such a thing.

They did some surgery that tucked back in and tacked up front and back innards and removed my uterus...since I wasn't using it anymore anyhow.

While they were in there they scraped out (most of) the endometriosis that had become bothersome, if the definition of 'bothersome' is "severe pain every month from the bleeding into the abdominal cavity" that was going on. I haven't looked it up, but I'm pretty sure that's what Webster says it is.

This all took about 6 hours and 2 doctors and the recovery was grueling as hell and long as winter. At my 6 week check up I was still in jammies and my entire abdomen was so bruised it was black. It was 3 years before I could wear blue jeans again.

Unfortunately, other than the uterus, all that shit is once again falling out.

I was told it was on accounta gravity.

I was told it was because I actually, yanno...DO STUFF like lifting and so forth.

The doctor asked if I was going to continue hauling 50# feed sacks and wrestling goats and I said, "Hell, yes."

He said, "Well, then I'm not going to re-do the surgery because you'll just ruin it again".

I told him that's not a problem because there's no FUCKING WAY I was letting him near me with a scalpel again no-how.

But here's what I wonder.

My great-grandmothers all worked their asses off. They all lived to be within sight of or went beyond having 100 candles on their birthday cakes.

And they all died with their parts still inside 'em.

More and more women I talk to of my age (and remember, my age was early 40's when this all happened) are complaining of having their parts falling out and needing surgery.

What the hell happened?

Are human beings made with cheaper parts than they used to be?

Here's the only thing I can think of.

Women of my generation grew up in the "Drink a shit-load of milk for good health, kids!" marketing of America's dairy industry.

The cows were being given hormones to increase milk production.

Any woman who has breastfed an infant and tried feeding a few hours after consuming broccoli, or onions, or Mexican food will assure you that everything ingested by the mother will be transferred via breastmilk to the baby. That's why they have that big warning sign in the ladies room in every restaurant that serves alcohol. Although by the time you need to pee, you've already consumed alcohol.

Cow's udders are big mammalian breasts and human children who consume that milk are drinking everything that cow has eaten or has been fed (or injected with). That's why if you're worming or medicating a dairy animal it says in big letters how long to withhold the milk for consumption, meaning, "Dump it out and don't let anything drink this because it's full of the shit you just medicated the cow with and that might be...bad for something else".

I think my generation of women have falling parts because our mothers (unknowingly) gave us whopping constant daily doses of hormones while we were growing up.

But I'm just a crazy old lady, what the hell do I know?