Really people – I’m not all that old.
Gray Hair – yes. Fat – yes. Achy – yes. Grumpy, grumbly, complainy and many of the other dwarves too – yes. But old? Not so much.
Now I’m not claiming I’m young, I’ve worked hard and long to get my flowing gray locks. But since I plan to stick around ’til I’m in my 80s, I’m technically "middle aged". (Do the math 85/2 = > 42.5)
And hey, even if I was old:
- I wouldn’t think I was… I hear there’s a lovely retirement home near a river in Egypt.
- I’m not old
- I’d be crowing about it… woo hoo… I’m old. I made it. I didn’t kick off early. Yay me!
- I’d have even more, even slicker gray hair! Actually, by then it’ll be a really cool silver colour.
be following my grannie’s advice: if you are old you don’t have to be
nice or polite to anyone any more! (Trust me… this IS me being nice
and polite… you don’t want to be around when I get official
permission to stop working at it.)
Geeze people, do I really need to dye my hair just so you don’t dismiss me as due to grayophobia?
FYI – this rant brought to you by the 3 separate people this week: a teen who gave up his seat for me on the street
car, how sweet of him. A 30-year-old who called his co-workers
"older" and then started apologising to me. I’m not his co-worker. And a grandfather who was critiquing an ad with me. I said I didn’t
relate to the ad because it effected a baby, and he suggested that perhaps it would work better for me if they
focused on the "old woman". Then he got really twitchy, glancing awkwardly side-to-side as if he was looking for a place to hide and suggest "or or or… er um…maybe the old man."