How many boxes of See's Candy?

Last year, I went to the eye doctor (thanks health insurance!) was was told by the smashingly groomed and outfitted and tall lady eye doctor that the reason I hate reading books and the New Yorker now was that my eye lenses, yes, insides my eyes, were becoming dried up and brittle and crackly and old. And it could be easily solved by getting glasses. This was kind of a blow. Like when you get kicked in the stomach by the horse, even just one foot of the horse, and you have to sit down for a minute, even if it is smack down in the mud, due to the stoppage of the breathing. Like, sorry, you had good eyes for many a year, but now that you have passed FORTY, you have crappy, crinkly little eye lenses that are eventually going to shrivel up and rot like a mummy rat carcass you find behind a feed can. But I got some glasses, and low and behold, I could actually read things again. But it sort of isn't the same.

And then I had to start wearing them more, and the dog ate them, and I couldn't read for a long time til I got some more. Like, I am saying, not reversible. Once you have started this, there is no return.

And I have crinkly weird joints in one of my knees. And the whole TOOTH fiasco (moral of That Story-it is going to cost you big time and make you possibly faint in the dentist office for each time you fall off a horse into a jump and land on your face) and I guess dry skin and now it's a fat stomach. Like I was warned by friends who were older than me, saying things like, "Just you wait. Once you Hit Forty, you can't eat all the boxes of See's candy all by your fat piggy self because you will get fat. And it's a bad and horrible over Forty Fat that won't just go away all magical like a fairy princess, wave a wand take a jog and goodbye." More than one person warned me of this fact, and what happened this Christmas season, after I ho ho ho'ed my way through all the boxes of the See's candy? I'll just let you guess that one and you guessed it right, right down to the pants that are likely going to split tonight when we resume Dirt Night for Agility.

And what is worse, I'm being warned about what's coming. The Change for the Ladies. It is somewhere in the future, past the glasses and the fat but before the plastic surgery and osteoporosis and apparently will make me go insane and sweat a lot and amplify all my bad qualities into truly evil and horrible qualities, causing possible divorce and no friends. And I'm thinking, this is like the total demographic of the dog agility people. Ladies who are over 40 and they are all having their bodies deteriorate to the point of someday in the future nearer than they ever thought, turning into little dust piles to be swept up and thrown in the garbage with rotting black lettuce. But like, hot damn. All out there, running their asses off with their dogs.