The Craziness of It All

What if aging happened overnight? If at, let's say twenty-two, you were told, "Okay, tomorrow you're going to wake up old. Your joints will hurt: not all at the same time, but on a rotating basis, some worse than others, some one day, some the next. You won't be able to hurry. You'll walk kind of stooped over, and your sense of balance will be off, so don't climb on anything or reach too far. Your body will sag and put on weight in the most inconvenient areas, so clothing yourself will become more a function of trying to find things that don't bind rather than things that flatter.



"Oh, and you'll lose color. Your hair and skin will sort of blend together. And don't be surprised if your face scares small children, or if you see your mother when you pass a mirror.



"Your organs will work sluggishly, but we'll find you some pills that might help. We should plan some surgery dates to fix what we can.



"What? You say you don't want to live that way?"



That's why it's done gradually. You notice, but you get used to it.