Aging

There's history written upon my face Lines and curves do not erase My eyes are circled, my lids now sag I carry around a stomach bag My fanny's tired and pulls my frame It's not arthritis, sloth is to blame My shoulders groove from straps too tight But still, stuff hangs, both day and night My toenails thicken, jog left and right My eyeglasses strengthen to aid my sight My nails sport acrylics shaped just so They're already neat wherever I go I'm amused each morning as I search the mirror For neck supports that seem to wither Somewhere or other I've lost some inches One foot has widened, one shoe now pinches The mystery of how I shall evolve Gets me up each morning to try and solve The meaning of aging, it’s such a bother I look in the mirror and see my mother!