One Creak, Two Creak

Old Creak, New Creak
Fifty-six percent of you like me when I was younger. Well, so did I! My new picture, which accurately reflects my old arthritic body, was soundly rejected, but I'm not giving in to your callous disregard for authenticity. I've had another picture done. I cheat a little, but it's still the real me as I am today.

But, let's talk about why you people can't accept my condition and my age. Since a lot of you are too cheap to see a psychiatrist about this, I'll deal with it here.

This is not your grandfather's web site, so I understand that a lot of young-ish people out there haven't come to the realization that we're all getting older, and today, just like arthritis, old isn't considered pretty. So I don't blame you all for fantasizing through me your desire to be young, or your revulsion at my old self. On second thought I do blame you because you're doing to me exactly what you don't want other people to do to you. You're refusing to look at the real me. Instead you're judging me against superficial benchmarks like beauty and youth, the same way people judge us all against the superficial benchmarks of straight fingers (or paws as it were), athletic prowess, and number of plastic joints. We all complain that the world doesn't see us for the wonderful people that we are, but when you got the chance to accept me for what I am, you refused - in overwhelming numbers. I think we all better find a mirror, look into it for a long time and ask whether we are worthy of our whining against the non-arthritic world, or whether we're just as hard hearted as the healthy people we criticize.

So, I've come half way and put up a compromise picture. Now you come half way and accept me for who I am. And while you're at it, accept yourself, too.