Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Getting older...it's not all booze and crying!

As another birthday looms in my not so distant future (okay, it's today), I decided to put my Pollyanna hat on and make a list of some good things about getting old. If you get the Pollyanna reference, this list is for you, too.

Before I was 55 and a cashier would ask if I was eligible for a senior discount, I would immediately go home, make a cashier doll, and stick pins in it. Now, when asked, I simply reply "Hell yeah, how much do I save?!"

I haven't had a zit since 1998.

Now when old men flirt with me, it's only slightly creepy.

I always wished for curves. Hmm, I should have been more specific where I wanted them.

I don't mind admitting I have three cats. But, their photo is not the wallpaper on my phone (yet).

I'm now comfortable bringing reading glasses to restaurants. It's a lot less embarrassing than asking for "the fourth thing down, make it medium rare", only to find out it's a chicken entree. Which leads me to the next one...

I am getting used to quizzical looks.

Medical personnel have stopped asking if there is a chance I could be pregnant.

I no longer have a need for belts.

I'm less likely to get patted down at the airport. It still happens, but not as often. I'm not so old I enjoy the personal contact.

Taking a nap is completely acceptable.

I am not a slave to fashion trends. I now have something called "my style" which includes sweatshirts with shoulder pads, baby bunny heels (lower than kitten heels) and lots of vertical stripes.

When a driver honks at me, I simply mouth the words "That's right, I'm old, now #%?@ off!"

And the best thing about getting old?

It's okay if I can't remember the name of that actor who was in that movie with that other actor, you know, the one married to that blond. I remember the exact time my kids were born, what they weighed, their first words, and what they wore on their first day of school. I remember every detail of when I met my husband, though I couldn't tell you what I had for lunch yesterday. I remember the exact words my mother said to me before she passed away (she called me by my sister's name, just like she had a thousand times before) but I have to set new passwords every day. You discover that what you thought was important, isn't important at all.