Ah, the joys of getting older

It is taking some getting used to, this aging stuff.
I am on the downside of my 40s and 50 is knocking on the door with a sledgehammer.
My knees protest everything from wet weather to walking up a flight of stairs.
My neck aches at the thought of a cold wind and I am starting to produce enough flatulence to power the space shuttle.
I can recall my grandparents generating enough gas to float the Hindenberg on a daily basis, and now it would seem I am well on my way to maintaining the family tradition of farting like a raging volcano.
I guess it is just another one of the thrilling aspects of piling on the years. Of course the alternative sucks, so I plan on operating my personal methane factory for as many years as possible.
When I was a young buck with lots of hair and no gut – those two have now reversed roles – there were many things I never thought about. Sure there are things a young mind dwells upon, but health, diet and abundant flatulence were not at the top of the list.
Back then, I was more worried about getting a speeding ticket or where we going to party that weekend and would a certain member of the female persuasion be at the party. Bills were dealt with on a 'need to' basis – as in I need to pay my rent or I will be living in a cardboard box, or worse, back with my parents.
Long-term planning was deciding what to wear to the party next weekend.
The stroke of midnight meant the good times were just starting. Now if I am up past midnight, I worry about having a stroke.
Being young meant you were indestructible, invincible and unstoppable. As I slide out of my middle-age years and into whatever the 50-year range is called, I see life through a much more realistic lens.
People say youth are the care-free days of our lives. I am realizing it was not so much care free as it was clueless.
You either didn't know the stuff you were doing was bad for you, or you didn't care because you knew you were indestructible and when you are indestructible you have no fear of destructing (if that is even a word.)
It would seem age has a way of washing away the haze of youthful exuberance and replacing it with wisdom and a much better understanding of what is going on around you.
Back in the day, I never worried about what I ate. When I was hungry, I ate whatever I wanted and as much as I wanted.
Bacon, fries, gravy, cheeseburgers all made a delicious snack.
I can remember going to adult recreational establishments until the wee hours of the morning. Then, with ears ringing and stomachs growling, we would head to an eatery where it would not be unheard of to decimate a pizza or that burger I was talking about, before going to bed at four in the morning.
My arteries hurt just thinking about it.
These days, the only thing I do at four in the morning is get up to go pee.
Greasy burgers and fries have been replaced by fresh greens and low-calorie dressing.
Cholesterol, triglycerides and other nasty words are now a back-of-the-mind distraction with every meal.
Long gone are the cheese-filled, fat-laden, late-night meals, replaced instead by a wholesome treat full of wonderful fibre and whole grains.
Food labels are read like the tablets handed to Moses, with no detail being over looked. Grams of fat, carbs and sodium are now the cardiac Axis of Evil and despite how delicious something tastes, that nasty little chart on the back of the package often outweighs the desire to ingest such a delectable delight.
With age comes wisdom, with wisdom came the realization I am not indestructible.
Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.