I recently had a complete physical, and the doctor gave me some good news, and some bad news. The good news is, I’m in excellent health. He said, if I keep taking care of myself, I may live to be a hundred years old. The bad news is, due to the effects of gravity, normal wear and tear on my body, and the aging process, I’m rapidly shrinking!
Just a few years ago, I was a towering, mountain of a man, at an impressive six-foot one inches tall. For Halloween, I used to dress up as that enormous, ugly giant, from the Jack and the Beanstalk fable. Now, I’m barely hanging on to the six-foot mark. If this keeps up, within a few years, I’ll be trick or treating with children, and be attired as a Munchkin from the “Wizard of Oz.” On the bright side – think of all that candy, I’ll get my tiny little hands on. Oh, oh; I just thought of something. My height is dropping like a rock, but my waist size keeps increasing. Does this mean that by the time I’m sixty, I’ll most likely resemble – a bowling ball?
I begged my doctor to give me some kind of growth hormone, or something. Maybe, something like Viagra, but it makes your whole body bigger. He told me there was nothing he could do. As part of the inevitable march of time, the disks in our spine lose water, and compress and shorten, the arches on our feet begin to flatten, and our posture isn’t as good due to muscle and bone loss. He also explained that during each subsequent decade after we reach forty, we lose a quarter to a half an inch in height.
Oh, my God. If this keeps up, I’ll soon be shopping for clothes in the toddler department, eating off the kiddie menu at restaurants, fighting with my grandchildren over candy, during the annual Easter egg hunt, using a stool to turn door knobs, and downsizing to a doll house when I retire! What’s even worse, is that you’ve never seen my wife drive. I guess you already know who’ll be riding in the back, in a car seat. Yes – tiny man!
After getting the sad news that I’ll be slowly, but surely shrinking, as I get older; I looked down at my diminutive doctor, who barely reached my belly button. I then, scratched my head and said,
“Doc, somethings been bothering me since I came in. Didn’t you used to be the starting center on the 1968 men’s Olympic basketball team?”
Do you think my doctor could be mistaken? Maybe it isn’t aging, but a curse my wife put on me. I could be like one of those shrunken heads, primitive cultures hang up, and display as trophies. I can tell you one thing. I might just survive all this shrinking, but my ears and nose haven’t been getting any smaller. As a matter of fact, I think they’re getting bigger! If this keeps up, in ten years, I won’t have to buy a Halloween costume. I’ll just go every year to parties as a miniature goblin.
I guess, the only thing to do is accept shrinking as a natural part of life and move on. On the bright side; I will get a cool toy with all those happy meals, I won’t hit my head on low-hanging tree branches, and I’ll save on gifts for future grandchildren. I’ll just climb in a shoe box, have my wife wrap it, and the kids will think they got an ugly-looking Ken Doll for Christmas.