Okay, Okay, it's not that I am getting better as I get older, I am getting higher!

I always tell everyone that I am so lucky because at fifty, I can get any kind of get high that I want. No seriously, I go to the doc and say, I am depressed, which I am, but he gives me really cool drugs and when I tell him I need to feel a little mellow like when I was smoking pot, back before my asthma said no more, he gives me really good drugs, so that I can take it, it’s legal and I am seeing life through a different lens and growing old, well it’s not so bad. I am not anxious, depressed, manic, or any of those other things that young people sometimes experience and consequently use a lot of illegal drugs to remedy. Ha, you may have nice breasts, a tiny waist, and good skin, but by gods I have the legal dope and I have cheap insurance, and I can wear what ever the fuck I want and no one judges me to be in style. I am so over that. But, I am not young. I wonder, which is better. Maybe, the youth thing is highly overrated but then again, when I was young, oh the things I could do. For instance, now I have sore wrists for no apparent reason, back then it was Atari wrists and Pac man hand. My fellow nurses laughed at me, of course they were older, when I complained about my wrists hurting and they said, did you play tennis and I said no, river raid. Anyway, growing old does have its advantages and if I really want those perky breasts again, I can buy them, well if I get any money. And the waist thing, well hell, I don’t want a skinny waist. I am thinking the Renaissance period’s woman is going to be what we are all reinvented into. Big butts, thighs, and bellies. Yep, then I will be so hot. But, that is an oxymoron, being old and hot. Well, hot as in hot flash but not the other hot and I am so rambling and so needing to study Latin. . Okay, the end.