YOU’RE INVITED (TO MY FIFTIETH), 1995

With President Obama on the verge of crossing the half-century line, age-wise, I recall my own (embarrassinglynarcissistic) 50th birthday partyCLic Adjustable Front Connect Reader, 2.00 Strength on Home Goes Strong. I thought I’d share with you the invitation I’d sent.

Author’s note: I no longer pee a droplet whenever I sneeze.

YOU’RE INVITED (TO MY FIFTIETH)

I’m changing colors like autumn trees.

I pee a droplet whenever I sneeze.

My schnozz has grown, I’ve lost a tooth,

Even my earlobes have started to droop.

Errant whiskers sprout overnight;

They’re hard to spy with failing eyesight.

All my hormones are nearly gone

While my daughter’s rage like a summer storm.

I moisturize with religiosity.

I’m awaiting hot flashes with morbid curiosity.

Octogenarian sex no longer sounds odd.

I’m turning fifty!  Oh my God!

“You still have your looks,” my mother stated.

Ma, you like how my upper lip’s corrugated?

I guess I actually do look young

When I’m at her Florida condominium.

Although for decades I have seen

That I’m older than models in Seventeen,

Still, I had always been confident

That I’d never be older than the President.

But, listen, it’s not my aging anatomy I dread,

It’s having more time behind than ahead

Worried about my imminent burial,

I consulted tables actuarial

To find out how many waking hours remain

For me to write a book, ride the train, complain. . .

The average American of fifty years

Has thirty-three point one more before she disappears.

From my pre-school age lop off half,

Add six point nine for renouncing decaf,

Compare waking hours since ’45,

With total anticipated till 2035.

(Don’t forget to include the excess–

As you get older you sleep much less)

That’s how I solved the riddle

Of how fifty is only the middle.

Though I turn forty-nine and five-twelfths in May,

I’m having a fete for my fiftieth birthday.

(At this point what’s seven months, more or less, anyway?)

Friday, May 19 join Steve and me to celebrate.

Or if you prefer, we’ll commiserate.

Since my memory’s practically shot,

Can you recount incidents I’ve forgot?

Some trouble I’ve caused–if you’re inspired

(Although I won’t object to hearing what you’ve, ahem, admired).

Enclosed are all the details you could possibly desire.

YOU CAN READ ALL ABOUT MY 50TH BASH ON HOME GOES STRONG

UNRELATED: ALSO READ ABOUT EVERYTHING TOMATO: RECIPES, STORING, FREEZING, PEELING, HARVESTING AND MORE.

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