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My husband's annual general checkup results came in. He has gained a lot of weight, and his cholesterol levels are way up. The BAD cholesterol. He has a pot belly. While it is kind of cute, I like remembering his belly hard-musceled, like his arms were, when we first met.
I find that he's defensive, in denial, and suspicious that the Doc and I are ganging up on him to take the pleasure from his life, and make him take expensive meds. He's been acting old for quite a while
I, on the other hand, am looking pretty good for my age. Careful eating, Pilates, and suppliments have helped me to lose some weight and gain some tone. The Doc is pleased with me. I represent good results from following his advice. I gave him full credit for it, too. My hair is a pretty colour, I think. L'Oreal. I feel attractive. And I have a thirst for affection and love like never before.
Younger men? I speculate. I remember how silly it seemed to me last time I tussled with that thought.
No.
Only to make my hubster think he is a younger man again.
That would be heaven.