Cheers

Netnet Camomot

DRUNK is something the young ones could relate with while drinking is still part of their happy hours. That’s the younger pre-hypertension days when the focus is on board exam results instead of lipid profile results.

For the young once, tunnel vision occurs when the palm of her hand is aiming for the face of an enemy instead of a bottle of tequila. And it’s no longer a drunken tunnel vision but a clear one, propped up by Realization 101, discernment, and wisdom–wisdom tooth, that is.

Thus, drunken women, who are already in their late 40s, should make you wonder if their tunnel vision is still stuck with tequila. For tequila was then the drink of this batch of matronas when they were younger.

One can’t be an innocent sweet sixteen sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice forever. There has to be some growth and morphing into maturity from 16 to 18 to their 20s, 30s, 40s…

I don’t know if getting drunk regularly should be one thing a person should give up once he reaches his 40s. A rare drunken session is probably acceptable, age doesn’t matter. But if the word “drunk” is now tattooed on your forehead, it’s time to reconsider the outlets of your emotions, angst, and this inability to surpass childhood traumas. If the help of a psychiatrist is necessary, so be it.

Besides, alcohol is bad, especially for the liver. An alcoholic who goes in and out of rehab is the kind who drinks 24/7 at home–alcohol for breakfast, alcohol for lunch, alcohol for dinner, alcohol for the snacks in-between. I once asked a psychiatrist why it’s more difficult for the alcoholic to recover compared to a drug addict, and he said, because alcohol is available everywhere, it’s legal, and there’s no need for the drinker to hide.

I stopped going to bars when I was in my late 30s. No, age wasn’t the only factor. I had written about this before. I and some friends entered this bar right across Dynasty Court Hotel, when I heard someone shout, Titaaaaa! I didn’t know it was for me until the teenage daughter of a friend approached me for a beso-beso. Realization 101: O my gas, I and my friend’s daughter are having drinking sessions in the same venue. That’s when I finally realized and accepted I’m old.

Thirty is not old. With 40 as the new 50, 50 as the new 60, and I guess 90 as the new 100, define old! But there are things that can’t remain yours forevermore. Like mini skirts.

Science and technology have made it possible for the face to look forever young, but the wrinkled neck and hands will always reveal the age.

Then, I look at my own hands. Oh, well. I’ve learned to put skin lotion in the tote bag.

Dry wrinkled skin is the great reveal. Even if you believe that your heart, mind and soul are still in their 20s, that skin will exclaim, Aminin!

By the time society sees you as old, you should have tasted some success in life, and not merely trotted on and on like a drum-less Energizer Bunny. At least the drum gives that Bunny some goals to achieve: to bang that drum like his life depended on it.

Madonna was caught barehanded by the paparazzi, and the media had a feast on why she wears gloves: to cover up the old, veined, dry, and wrinkled hands.

Lola Madonna can still dance, as proven in her “Rebel Heart Tour.” But her dance steps are not as fast as they used to be when she was in her, say, 20s.

The old can already feel body pains galore. Madonna must have had her share, too, considering the choreography of her concerts and shows. But she can be the epitome of the young at heart, with grandmas, er, moms wishing they can still dance like her.

Meanwhile, the drunken matrona should start looking for other safer habits to fill up her sked otherwise, uh, there goes the liver.