F is for Fifties (Mine, Not the Decade)

I’m doing this blogging A to Z thing. Today is F. Also TBT.

I turned 50 last year. This was me on my 50th birthday, taking a break from shoveling.

I probably spent a good chunk of that day muttering “I’m too old for this crap.” The truth is, for a guy in his 50’s, I’m pretty healthy. (I’ve got a stack of paper half an inch high to back that claim thanks to a new doctor who wanted base line numbers.)

I won’t say in good shape, because I’ve gained some weight. That’s me today.

And I’m not completely without age-related issues. I’ve got no cartilage in one shoulder (a.k.a. osteoarthritis). I can still shovel snow, but I have a good excuse reason to not play softball. And I suck at softball, so that’s a win all around.

I have high blood pressure, but it’s not that high, and it’s under control. Keeping it that way motivates me to exercise often, and to see my doctor regularly, which are both good things. And to eat more salad, but with less dressing. Also a good thing.

(Here’s a fun fact – the potato chips at Panera have way less sodium than the bread.)

I’ve also got male pattern baldness and white hair, but the former started in high school and the latter in my 20s, so I don’t really associate them with age. If anything, I’m finally at the age where they look right.

Aside from that: I’m gainfully employed. I’ve got a daughter who is about to graduate high school with multiple college scholarship offers and who still enjoys my company. I’m single, but I’m still friends (at least Facebook friends) with all of my significant previous significant others.

So there you have it – my fifties so far in a nutshell. No softball, more salad, my looks match my age, my kid and my exes still like me. Also, I’m eligible for old-people discounts.

I’ll take it.