I am getting old. I find more and more gray hairs in my head, and my usually firm skin is beginning to sag. I can hear my joints creak upon rising, I’m taking more pills to keep me going and I think my hearing and eyesight are diminishing. Well, the eyesight thing could spring from needing a new pair of glasses, but all the other complaintsmust beold age. My grandmother, who is ninety-one, says that I am a young woman, yet my body begs to differ. My twenty-three year old daughter has married and made me a grandmother. And while I do love my little grandbaby, the day she told me that I was to be a grandparent, I cried, and it wasn’t from happiness. The very thought of me being a grandmother, a Nana, a Me-ma, a Gammy, while I was still under the illusion that I was perky and forever young made me bawl. Ok, so my grandchild is just a few months old, I can dye my hair, exercise to become more flexible to take away the creaking,and I have come torealize that some meds make you a better person. Yet, when I find myself putting on a sweater in warm weather when I normally would be prancing around in a thin T-shirt with shorts, and keeping warm socks on my feetat night whileI’m in bed, not to mention being totally uncomfortable without a thick blanket to snuggle in, I worry. I know it's inevitable, I am fully aware of the fact that Ishould enjoy becoming a mature woman and embracethe wisdom of years of experience to dole out to my daughter. It'sall the saggy skin, creepy joints,and grey hairs I don'tlike. Call me vain, I know. YetI do have days when I feel 20 years old, pulling out my skimpy, flirty clothes and fun wigs, painting my face to the max with dramatic colors, polishing my nails a wild shade only to I ask myself: what am I doing? Where am I going? I have no car,I'm not dating,and since I am unemployed, I have no money. The triple threat! So with a heavy sigh, I take off the sexy outfit, remove the fake hair, and scrub my face clean. The only thing left is to sit back and admire my manicure, which the color eventually chips or peels off. Depressing, isn’t it? So when I find the sun is shining and it’s nearly 80 degrees out and there I sit in the house wearing a sweater, thick socks and oh yes, a “granny cap” on my head to keep it warm knocking back my daily assortment of pills. I think to myself I am getting old.