Dawn Watson/CNBNews Contributor
I’d like to say that I’m aging gracefully but I’ve never been graceful. I know, the phrase doesn’t mean that you’re actually graceful—it means you look good as an older person. On the other hand I’m not a bit graceful and I look every minute of my sixty-eight years.
Being older has its merits, though; I am called “cute” whenever I do something inappropriate. For example, I was wearing shorts underneath my favorite, full skirt when a fellow commented that I resembled a mushroom. Without hesitation I picked the back of the skirt up and let him know what I thought of his comment. A younger person would have been arrested.
I continually trip on imaginary cracks in the sidewalk and stumble over every uneven curb. When I was younger I was ignored when this occurred. Now folks rush to my rescue because, well, I’m old!
Ten years ago when I admitted my age people were quick to tell me how good I looked, that they’d never have guessed I was fifty-eight. Now, when I state my age you can hear crickets chirp. Unless I’m in the presence of the sight-impaired, in which case they’re not sure.
To say my face looks like a road map is an understatement. (Do they still have those?) And when did my arms start making noises when I wave? It sounds like I just hung my sheets out to dry. (Does anyone still do that?)
I remember that my great-grandfather’s room smelled like over-ripe bananas. It was unpleasant and the reason I eat my bananas in my car. Of course, I wait until they’re nice and soft. Okay, never mind.
Just the other day I fell off a step. Too bad it was my own step, not that I’d ever sue anyone for my clumsiness. But I’d sure like to blame someone other than myself for a change.
There are parts of me that are changing rapidly. It’s a good thing I have access to safety pins, paper clips, and assorted types of tape, although my wardrobe resembles something the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz might have hanging in his corn field. At least I’m no longer bothered by those pesky crows.
I enjoy most of the changes that come of growing older because so many of my friends and family don’t get to experience them—they succumb to disease, war, and trauma. Life is over in the blink of an eye; if I fall down I feel blessed to be able to get back up again and I’m not worried about the way my face looks. With age comes the reward of not being concerned about what others think of me.
Just don’t tell me I look like a mushroom or you’ll get what you deserve.
Picture by Internet Google Search Engine