Isn't it interesting that when we discuss the use of time, we often use the same words we use in reference to money. Sometimes we hang out with friends, and we "spend" time with them. By the same token, we often try to cut corners in life so we can "save" time. This is understandable because time may just be our most valuable commodity. If time cannot be saved nothing else really matters, does it? Is saving time actually possible? Singer Jim Croce from the 70's wrote a tune that talked about saving time in a bottle, but I assume that's not possible, otherwise he would still be around to talk about it. Velcrow shoes, clip-on ties, paying your bills automatically, washing machines, and shaving in the shower are all classic examples of what we refer to as time savers. But if these things can actually help you save time, where would you put it? As far as I know no savings and loan exists for the storing of time, but don't we wish it did. If I ever come up with one you fine people will be the first one to know.
Before we can explore just where time goes, we must first explore what it is. If we stare at a clock, are we watching time pass? It's much like the joke about the boy who threw the alarm clock to see if he could see time fly. Since time is not a tangible product, I assume that's a farce. Clint Black once sang "there's no time to kill between the cradle and the grave, Father Time still takes a toll on every minute that we save. In order to become one day older all, we have to do is let our head hit the pillow and awaken once again to the alarm clock, and boom, we are a day older! It's an exact science which requires no skill or effort on our part, all the heavy lifting is done directly by the almighty.
We have all heard the saying that the only thing we HAVE to do in this life is live, die, and pay taxes. Actually, that's almost true, we are also required to age. None of us are immune to it. Of course, we all have that one school mate that we are convinced has taken a dip in the fountain of youth and they essentially still (and forever will) look eighteen. The jury is still out on those strange folks, they may just be aliens. I am fully aware that my head looks like it has worn out ten bodies, but somehow, in my mind I still feel like I'm in my 20's. It's also interesting when we run into someone we have not seen in decades and our first thought is "damn, they got old!" But somehow when we look in the mirror, we don't see it in ourselves. Why is that? Is there a name for that phenomenon?
The number one thing we do as humans (especially woman) is to fight the aging process. I am surprised that women have not been caught trying to drink Oil of Olay straight from the bottle. If a woman is caught in broad daylight displaying wrinkles and gray hair, it seems that is the ultimate sin. Many women have been nipped and tucked so many times they are barely recognizable; have you seen Courtney Cox lately? Her face looks like an overstretched balloon. Betty White was a beautiful creature right up until the day she died mainly because nobody ever took a scalpel to her face. She was natural and unspoiled, and as far as I am concerned that is the secret where inner and outer beauty join in the aging dance. And let's be honest, we get what we get for a reason. Far be it from me to ask why, that's far above my pay grade. I have seen women in their sixties that I thought were every bit as beautiful as a woman in their twenties, sometimes even more so. For far too long women have discounted the idea that frailty and wisdom equal inner beauty. I once heard a woman say that she didn't think women got plastic surgery because of men, but because of other women. That is interesting not to mention telling. That puts a whole new spin on the subject of how women are hard wired.
When it come to a woman's take on the aging of men, they are well known for saying the following: "men are supposed to become crusty and wrinkled, it looks good on them." Are we really? Or is that just one of societies lies that we all summarily buy into? Men on the other hand just try to sidestep the whole aging landmine subject by pretending the gray hair and crow's feet never happened. We buy Harley's and Porches in our forties while under the delusion that we are still as desirable now as we were when we in our teens. Toupees and a comb-overs are essentially a cry for help for men who would still like to get a reach around from attractive women they barely know. By the time a man reaches his mid-fifties he is barely as sophisticated as belly button lint. Usually, he has as much hair growing out of his ears, nose, and back as he does the top of his head and begins to pee in what sounds a bit like Morris Code. That's a sad but true realization. The problem is a woman with little to no self-esteem who could be hoodwinked into just such a situation will never be girlfriend material if a man has a cool car and a fat wallet. These girls can usually be found working out their daddy issues on an aluminum pole. That woman is NOT Miss Right, she is only Miss Right NOW, which is fine if that is what you are in search of. She is a woman who can make you forget about your problems for the better part of five full minutes, but she will never be the woman who will bear your children, wipe your backside, drive you to a colonoscopy, and make you glad to be alive.
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