|Courtesyof pixtawan -|
During infancy, my central concerns focused on the risk of humiliation at the hands of my school teachers, some of whom deployed bare-bottom spanking in front of the whole class as a punishment; even at the tender age of six, the prospect of botching the arithmetic test and my arse being exposed to 30 of my peers was a disturbing prospect. By the time I reached my teenage years my worries centred on whether I’d win the affections of a pretty girl in my class (and perhaps glimpse her arse) rather than losing out to one of my mates.
Early adulthood evoked anxieties about college examinations and career prospects. Then parental responsibilities arrived, together with ongoing fears about not having enough money to pay the bills at the end of each month. As my affluence increased, the day-to-day worries of a responsible job, alongside the toxic office politics, grabbed centre stage.
Now at 56, and having recently opted for early retirement with a generous pension, what is there left for me to worry about? My 33-year-old relationship with Mrs Jones is stronger than ever. My two adult children seem to be maturing into decent, independent human beings. There is nothing around to disturb my mental tranquillity.
But the human psyche, in its wondrous complexity, seems to find things to fret about even when life is good. Listed below are the top 10 worries that have pushed into my mind over the last month:
1. The inward journey of my toe-nail
Despite regular attention from the clippers, the big-toe nail on my left foot seems determined to get more acquainted with the neighboring soft tissue, and is burrowing into the flesh like a scene from Alien on reverse play.
2. My daughter driving her Mini-Cooper
The occasional disturbing image of my precious princess travelling at speed in such a frail shell alongside all the 4 x 4s and juggernauts, while casually twiddling the dial on her car radio.
3. The kink in my willy
It might have been my overly tight classic briefs, but when I was in the shower a fortnight ago I noticed that my most precious appendage had an almost 45-degree kink in it half way along its length. For a few nervous moments I feared that any future intimacy would require Mrs Jones to be out of sight and in a separate room.
4. My football club suffering a humiliating defeat
Following promotion to the Premier League of English football (soccer), my small-town club, Burnley, are this season competing against giants like Manchester United and Liverpool. More than once I’ve awoken abruptly from a nightmare as a 10th goal sails into the Burnley net.
5. Dying slowly with a degenerative brain disease
Sadly, my mother-in-law is afflicted with senile dementia; her faculties and personality ebbed away some time ago. I fear such a gradual, undignified demise. When it’s time to meet my maker, I hope for a sudden death; a massive coronary during one of my early-morning jogs would be ideal.
6. Whether my knee joints can hold firm
Speaking of jogging … throughout my menopause-fueled pursuit of fitness, my knee and ankle joints regularly creak and threaten to give way altogether. As such, I’m prone to catastrophic images of being wheel-chair bound before the age of 60.
7. Self-mutilation from trimming my bush
I increasingly like to keep my intimate vegetable patch neat and tidy, a practice encouraged by reading that shaving makes your manhood look bigger. But the ever increasing depths of the folds in my dangly bits means that completion of the procedure with my Remington 3-speed trimmer is fast developing into a bloody business; I fear one day that the process will leave the shower resembling the iconic scene from Psycho.
8. My son’s lungs
At the age of 22, for some inexplicable reason, my son Ryan decided to start smoking. At times I’m disturbed by the image in my head of his sooty lungs, spluttering to inflate.
9. The passage of time
It is unsettling how quickly time passes: I’m not far off 60; my parents are in their mid 80s, and my “kids” are both 20-something. Bereavements are imminent. But perhaps even more unsettling are the little losses and endings: no more family holidays; no more teaching my children to drive; selling our house so as to down-size; and no longer in the role of my children’s taxi driver - all life chapters that will never be repeated.
10. My hemorrhoids
Despite previous assaults with ointments and the surgeon’s knife, my resilient little buddies continue to strive for daylight. Although painless, the blood-stained underwear can sometimes appear as if … … But I’ll spare you any more detail; I wouldn’t wish to worry you!
And who said the life of a 56-year-old early retiree was an easy one?
You really don't make me look forward to my 50's with all this talk of blood splattered underwear!ReplyDelete
It will eventually arrive at your door, Phil - your back door in this case!Delete
Time to invest in a butt plug! That, or Depends.Delete
I'll put them on my list for the weekly shop!Delete
A wise ape said: "When you've got nothing to worry about, you worry about nothing". Not true in your case, as you've obviously got plenty to worry about. Try using Immac on your man-bush.ReplyDelete
I've considered Immac, but I suspect it might sting too much!Delete
At least your "willy" is long enough to have a kink in it.ReplyDelete
A kink can be incorporated into less than 5 cms!Delete
This post really should have been accompanied by photos!ReplyDelete
I've been told it's not dementia if you lose your car keys; if you find them and don't know their purpose---well then, that's a whole different story!
I might be an insensitive soul, Eva, but even I would not inflict the photos on you!!Delete
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, NOT PICTURES OF HIS HEMORRHOIDS!!!!!!!Delete
There is a picture of my hemorrhoids within the test of the post - it was the most difficult selfie I've ever done!Delete
AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! You said the dreaded 'H' word!!!!!!! Even though I had the little buggers expunged from my arse 26 years ago, I'm always terrified they will come back!!!!!!ReplyDelete
Yeah, and that kink in my willy, too. Good thing I don't use it much anymore.
Mine came back, Al, so why should I suffer in isolation!ReplyDelete
Stop being wuzzy, Al - clench your buttocks, and get a grip!!Delete
#1, #2, #6 and #9---right there with you. I love the way you write---always gives me a chuckle because everything you say is so relatable.ReplyDelete
I appreciate your ongoing support and interest, Marcia. I suspect we occupy similar points on life's journey.Delete
I like the fact that you are approaching all of this with at least a little bit of humor...ReplyDelete
If I didn't laugh at myself I'd probably go crazy! Thanks for reading and commenting.Delete
It is truly impressive how many of your daily worries have to do with your nether regions. You're either unhealthily obsessed with maintaining your lower treasures in mint condition, or you're truly blessed to have not a care in the world. It's probably a combination of the two!ReplyDelete
All men are obsessed with their dangly bits. Aren't they? No? OK then I am unhealthily obsessed, but nothing that 10 years of dynamic psychotherapy can't cure!ReplyDelete
I am always curious to see what occupies the minds of others, I had no idea there would be so much blood.ReplyDelete
I too worry about my son's lungs, at 19 he tells he's 'tried to quit smoking' by purchasing an electronic cigarette. He is technically an adult, so he can make his own choices, yet still unable to keep track of all the pieces necessary to operate this complicated machinery. Enigmatic, to say the least.
I hope everything works itself out, as it were, in your body and clothing.
Yes, Joy, there is very little we can do about our offspring smoking, at least not when they reach a certain age.Delete
Hi Bryan! I'm so glad you left a comment on my blog which led me here. It's nice to see a man's point of view on life in the mid 50's. I'll soon be 54 and it's certainly been a roller coaster ride getting here! I look forward to reading more from you. Great sense of humor!ReplyDelete
Welcome, Barb - great to see you here. I''ll try to keep up to speed with your offerings as well. take care.ReplyDelete
As I'm the same age as you, I share a few of those concerns, albeit, somewhat altered. Very informative for me to know, though, what my husband might be feeling! :)ReplyDelete
On the serious side, I hope you will be able to relax and enjoy your early retirement. I have friends in their 60s. I asked them when do you get to be free thinking and to just do what you want to instead of continuing to try to make an indelible mark on the world. They said, "Now!" They also said that with grandkids and doctor's appointments weaved in with art classes and traveling, that they manage to stay busy.
I enjoyed your remarks on my post. :)
Anita - thanks for dropping in. I am enjoying early retirement, despite my neurotic worries. I think keeping the mind and body active is the key.Delete
At 49 with 2 daughters, ages 14 and 11, and still slogging through a job I have mixed feeling about on a good day, the worries still come easy. I look forward to the increasingly creative ways, if your experience is any indication, that my psyche continues to torment me post-50. After all, my tormenting psyche is my oldest and most reliable friend.ReplyDelete
Momus, life is likely to get a lot easier once your kids get out of their teens. I sincerely hope so. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment.ReplyDelete