Local goon turns into old hag

Yesterday was my first official day of being old.

The day started out normal enough. I woke up to the radio, like I usually do. I searched blindly for the snooze button, like I usually do, face still firmly buried in my pillow, arm flailing. I fell back asleep, like I usually do. The alarm went off again.

Then things went awry.

I tried to reach behind my headboard to once again smash the snooze, but I couldn't. A horrible shocking pain ran from the side of my neck down into my shoulder. I immediately dropped back to the bed. I thought I was dying and moaned accordingly.

I laid there on my back, helpless, unable to move. Every time I tried to lift my head from the pillow, the monstrous pain was back. So I moved sideways, gingerly rolling and wincing to my side and resting the side of my head in the molded hole of my fancy new ergonomic pillow.

It worked! It didn't hurt! I laid there for a while, thinking my magic pillow would cure me.

It didn't.

I managed to get up though, using a rolling technique that I plan to patent.

For the rest of the day, I moved and walked around like Frankenstein, stiff and moaning. I couldn't even hold my head straight; it was tilted at a slight angle all day, like a dog that doesn't understand. I couldn't turn my head at all. I could barely lift my left arm. When I wanted to turn to look at something, I moved my entire upper body with it.

It was so bad, I decided to skip my hip-hop dance class last night. (Yes, I am taking a hip-hop dance class. I refuse to explain myself further.) I can't dance when I'm healthy, let alone when I'm paralyzed from the neck up.

So I called my sister. She's taking the class with me and I thought she'd wonder where I was if I didn't show up. So I called her and explained my pain.

"I can't move," I said.

"Did you take Advil?" she asked.

"I've been sucking it down all day," I said.

I told her how it started with my snooze button.

"I'm such a freak," I said.

"No," she said. "You're old."

I laughed it off. I've been told I'm old before. Old age is a joke, everybody knows that. I'm only 26 and I have a bad back and a stiff neck. See, age jokes are funny! HA HA!

But then I tried to turn my head and the pain made me see stars. And I realized, this is unlike anything I've ever experienced. This is no ordinary pain. This is geriatric pain.

Suddenly, other geriatric instances flashed back to me:

My clothes don't fit me well anymore, which means my metabolism is slowing.
The bags under my eyes are getting deeper and darker.
And I simply don't understand why that song "Promiscuous Girl" is popular. It's not a good message to give to young girls and the music is crap, if you can call that music.

All of these observations point to one thing: I need life insurance now due to my inevitable early demise.