The Seven Deadly Sins of Middle Age

The Seven Deadly Sins of Middle Age

We all have them. The secret sins that keep us awake at night and tap us on the shoulder during the day while we try to go about our business. The sins that we would prefer that our friends and neighbors never see. For some, this means dancing the salsa naked with a Hoover Upright ( Hey! I didn't say that was me!). For others, it's sticking their face in a bag of cereal at 2:00a.m. (Okay maybe that was me).

I know I’m not Catholic and I'm pretty sure you're not a priest, but I'm sitting in a confessional booth right now about to spill the goods on Middle Age’s seven deadly sins.

ENVY:  I live near a park with an enormous cross-country jogging trail. I see women of all ages out there, rollerblading, jogging and biking. Certain ones catch my eye---the PERFECT ones, who look like they just rolled off the Barbie shelf at Target. Pink sweats with the Juicy label across their firm, little butts, and a matching tank top stretched tight across breasts that aren't jiggling like jello cups in a truck when they jog. THOSE are the women I envy. Their pre-baby bodies are free of stretch marks resembling the NYC subway system. They are blessed with perky boobs on the high beam setting aimed at the stars instead of their knee caps. It makes me long for my youth and a certain pink bikini I once owned.

GLUTTONY:  This is the reason I no longer own the aforementioned pink bikini. Being diabetic, nature kind of solved this one for me.  Although, I am also selfish when it comes to Chinese take-out. Don't touch my egg roll or lay a finger on my mu shu pork.

PRIDE:  This is something easily lost when you're driving an old minivan with wipers that do more harm than good, a dubious engine, and the bottom held on by rust.  However, ask me about my children and I will whisk you over to the nearest computer device and run through every picture that I have stored and labeled by occasion.  But that’s what makes this sin just a little bit fun.

LUST:  When you're middle aged, the mind says, "Yes" but the body says, "Oh, hell no!" So you learn to lust after other things....like a beef burrito the size of a chihuahua. Or Ben and Jerry's Triple Caramel Chunk ice cream and a good bottle of Dom Perignon. A trip to Tahiti would be nice too, but at this rate I'll never be able to fit back into that pink bikini again. 

ANGER:  Think Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Anthony Hopkins in Silence Of The Lambs. This is what I become when my daughter misses the school bus at 6:30 a.m. My head has also been known to spin like I'm in the throes of an exorcism when I send one of the kids to do a two-step chore and what I get back it step one and step “When the hell did I ask you to do that?”  That’s when you end up in a rant so long that you end up getting sick of the sound of your own voice but you can’t stop because then you would have to admit that your Middle Aged mind forgot what step 2 was anyway.  This is ended effectively by simply saying, “We both need time to cool off.  Go to your room.”  Then you never have to admit that you forgot what you wanted them to do to begin with and usually they remember it for you.  Young Brains have some advantages. 

SLOTH:  When I think sloth, the first image that comes to mind is Jabba the Hutt. No, I do not resemble a bloated, slug-like alien, nor do I eat fleshy, aquatic creatures with slimy legs. But I DO like having minions (a.k.a. children) around to take out the trash, wash the dinner dishes and fold the laundry before all the socks play hide-and-seek or join Match.com to find their missing partners.

GREED:  While most people associate greed with money and power, neither of those things appeal to me. I'm greedy when it comes to sleep. Those evil, middle age twins Hot Flash and Fatigue have joined forces with their mischievous cousin Insomnia to deprive me of a solid, seven hours of slumber. My bladder is never one to miss a party either, so she's right up there playing checkers with her cohorts at all hours of the night. If there's such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as a bear so I can hibernate for a few months in a cave and bite the head off the first person who wakes me.

There should be an 8th deadly sin as well, called INSANITY. When my body thermostat mimics the mercury levels of an Arizona desert during the month of July, or I suddenly find myself trolling the girdle aisle at Walmart, I'm bound to feel a little crazy. To combat the bipolar symptoms of my fluctuating hormones, I've discovered that the road to happiness is paved with Xanax and sugar-free popcicles....and maybe a side trip to Tahiti with a pink bikini in my suitcase.