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I want a new drug.

I want a new drug.

I am the oldest anyone in my immediate family has gotten without having had a stroke or heart attack. According to my internist, I am literally a time bomb set to go off at any second. She scours my lab reports every six months for any slight increase in blood pressure, cholesterol, or blood glucose levels, then she prescribes light doses of Lipitor and Avapro and heavy dosages of exercise. Not just any exercise – she wants me to do aerobic exercise. 
One that don’t cost too much
Or come in a pill

There is a reason why the word EXERCISE consists of eight letters – it’s a double four-letter cuss word.  I don’t care that it’s good for everything, including the failing economy of this nation.  Name it; it cures it (or delays it):  aging, anxiety, arthritis, blood pressure, cancer, cholesterol, depression, dementia, diabetes, flexibility, heart problems, immune systems, lung capacity, sexual dysfunction, sleep disorders, yadda, yadda, yadda.

So what?

Not everything that is “good” is good for me.  Three servings of dairy a day is a death sentence to a person like me who is lactose intolerant. Money is “good” for me, but I’m dangerous with an ATM card.  A square of chocolate and a glass of wine is “good” for a woman my age, but that can lead to ancillary problems (and a more entertaining blog). You get the picture.
One that won’t make my mouth too dry
Or make my eyes too red
My doctor has scolded me for years to get more exercise, but I could care less.  I can take her.  She's at least forty lbs lighter than I am. But I will say this - the one thing that convinced me that I needed to do something besides take pills was the mirror. Okay, maybe also the huge pair of jeans I had to buy at the end of last summer. Or the inability to tie my own shoes.  Or the fact that I was breathless just getting to the driveway from the front porch.
Or make me feel three feet thick
I wish I was only 36 inches thick. Have you seen Huey Lewis lately? He looks good, and we’re the same age.  It just isn't fair.

And so I drag my aging, overweight backside to the gym five days a week. I chain ball, side step, pony, hustle, and do other insane flapping movements trying to keep the inevitable at bay – this rocker chick is getting old, but she plans on getting a whole lot older.


  1. 'Taking on' your doctor could be good exercise.

  2. Great post! Scattering humor amidst the truth I'd a great way to swallow a pill. :-)

  3. I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you are dragging yourself to the gym!


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