Yute

Things are changing so quickly. Anonybabe is rapidly losing her babyishness. It's falling away from her like dandelion fluff: one minute it's there in abundance, the next, gone forever. I'm on the cusp of losing my baby.

Perhaps not coincidentally, I'm starting to resent the aging process. Starting to get a little panicky about it. I'm 34, which is a pretty fabulous age to be. But for the past few weeks I feel that any year, any month, any minute now, I'm going to start losing it sexually, physically, mentally. Am I really never going to have sex with another person again? Are those wrinkles around my eyes really going to settle in? Am I really going to continue getting hairier, fatter? Did I just let my youth pass me by?

I just heard a John Updike story where the aging main character had lost his fight. He'd lost all sense of import, of drama. He was watching life, detached. (Of course he was remembering the days when he was about my age as the ones where he was full of spit and vinegar). The story depressed me.

I know I've many years before I really lose all my youth, but certain things have been retrieving that future day and laying it at my feet for me to take a nice long look at. And instead of seeing all of the great things that come with age - stability, wisdom, confidence - all I can see are the things I'll lose forever.

The nightmare fantasy feels real, and ugly.