Thursday, June 10, 2010

As I haven't yet set up the holiday pic post...

.
I was staring at my computer screen, squinting. A colleague passing by said, "Wow, that's really fuzzy". Such blissful relief !  I thought it was my eyes, that my prescription would need to be changed. Again. So soon.

"You mean it's not me?"
"Um, no. How can you work like that?"

One quick call to Mr. IM and it was all fixed.

Unfortunately, I don't really see the crystal clarity of it.  Damn.

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I climb into the waiting bus. It's crowded. Suddenly I hear, "Please take my place m'am, you look tired". This time it's not a 10 year old boyscout practicing his manners because anyone beyond 15 looks positively ancient to him.  No. This guy must be pushing 30. And it's the third time this has occurred in a couple of months.

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So it has finally happened. I have joined that generation of  tired-looking matrons for whom seats are given up on the bus and subway, though manners being what they are today, I thought it would happen much later. You know, when I'm old and decrepit, bent over with osteoporosis, leaning on my walker. I'm not liking this one bit, though I'm not stupid or vain enough to refuse the proffered seat. I don't have that much to prove. Or that much pride for that matter.

Obviously, I'm already seen as old and decrepit. Is it because no one today, even the 80 year old botox-embalmed Westmount ladies who lunch, looks older than 25? In a really really creepy way.

Is it because of the hair? No one has natural hair anymore, everyone colours, even though, truly, does it really fool anyone? Once everything is being sucked into the ground through sheer incapability of  resisting the forces of gravity, I don't believe artfully coloured hair can fool even the blindest among us.

At almost 49 I have joined the ranks of the old and invisible.


I don't know why it bothers me so much, since I've pretty much spent my life being invisible, part of that mass that no one sees, so it's not much of a change. At least now I become visible long enough to get a seat on the bus, that should be a plus shoudn't it?

And yet...

Statistically, the halfway mark is past. And I don't care that 50 is the new 40 or 30 or whatever the hell it is, I can't fathom that I've reached that age. That I'm well into middle age and closing quickly on the "Golden Years" (Golden years my fat ass, more like tarnished pewter maybe).

What the hell happened to my life!?!  Hell, I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm supposed to be thinking of what I'm gonna live on when I retire?

Which is a whole 'nother thing. Retire?  I'll probably never be able to afford it and will die working as a Walmart greeter. Now there's a scary thought.

I mean, after all, the only good thing about getting old is being able to stop with the damn work already. And I'm already looking at working at Walmart.

WALMART!

Damn, I need a hot flash to distract me!

14 comments:

Dave1949 said...

As is common with ladies you are of course overlooking the obvious that the seat was offered cause the guy noticed you and liked what he saw enough to give up his seat. We don't always act polite cause we sense our mothers in the target, sometimes its cause we like who we see.

Big Brother said...

LOL, htting the big 5O soon are we? Could be worse. You could be eligible for old age rebate Tuesdays at Zellers... ;o)

Bonnie said...

Disillusioning, isn't it? Oh well, better to age than not.

VioletSky said...

He didn't say "you look too old and tired to be standing, please take my seat". I see it as a compliment that someone has at least noticed me and seen that I look tired and appreciated that I may be grateful for a seat. Which I always am. Grateful for a seat that is, not tired looking.

pinklea said...

I think I know what you mean: I'm having a hard time with this concept of aging, too. When I hit 50, PG threw me a surprise party - and the real surprise for me was how much I just wanted to forget the whole thing, crawl into a hole, and cry. Now, two years later, I'm trying to be grateful that I'm still here and healthy (considering the alternative and all), but I still haven't really come to terms with aging. I know I don't look anywhere near my real age (thanks Dad!), but the idea of being old enough to actually retire is shocking to me.
Let me know if you figure out a way to deal with it all gracefully, okay?

Gaelyn said...

Ever since turning 50 I think life has gotten even better. And I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when, and if, I grow up. Hope everything else is going well.

Dumdad said...

"Hell, I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm supposed to be thinking of what I'm gonna live on when I retire?"

Yes, that's much how I feel. And there's that nagging feeling that I've left it all too late somehow. Oh well.

Dx said...

If you want to feel good, and get revenge, just wait until a twenty-something boards the bus then offer them your seat and say, "Here, have a seat you poor old thing." It's especially good to target guys with this.

XUP said...

Someone is suffering from post-holiday blues/blahs. I would love it if someone gave up a seat on the bus for me, instead of pushing and shoving me out of the way to get to the seat first. I'm really looking forward to all those perks old people get - discounts everywhere, priority seating, first boarding on planes and trains, you get to be as scatty as you want and speak your mind and everyone will just think you're an eccentric old dear; blue plate specials!! As long as you feel fit and healthy aging can be great. And there are lots of other ways for a smart cookie like you to keep yourself in support hose after retirement other than WalMart greeter.

geewits said...

You certainly have the post-vacation blues. In defense of hair coloring, I started coloring my hair when I was 22 just because I wanted to be a redhead. And some women color their hair because grey hair is unflattering with their skin tone. I'm sure some women do color their hair to try to look younger though. And it probably helps for most of them.

Jazz said...

Dave - Really? Heh, I hadn't thought of it that way. Be careful, you might encourage my inner cougar to come out...

BB - I still have a year to go. Besides, you're closer to the rebate than I am. I'll never be like Aunt Rolande though, who'd ask mom to use her rebate because she didn't want anyone to know she was over 65. She was 75 at the time. Me, I'm gonna suck the system for all it's worth.

Bonnie - That's a very philosophical way of looking at it. Cause really, when you look at the alternative...

Violet - you're never tired looking. You're fresh as a morning violet you are.

Pink - The only way to do it is to raise hell all the way, I think.

Gae - Glad to know I'm not alone

DD - If worse comes to worse, we can move to the south of France and live on the beach...

DX - You are evil.

XUP - As long as I don't have to eat at the 4:30 early bird special time. Now THAT would be depressing.

Geewits - No need to defend it. I started colouring my hair around the same age. A couple of years ago, I was done. Sick of the whole thing. My hair had become dry and felt like a damn pile of straw. I haven't gotten to the point where I stopped shaving my legs though, that'd be scary... Thank god for minimum maintenance.

Suldog said...

If it's any consolation, I consider you a young chick. Heck, when I was 19, you were illegal :-)

mrwriteon said...

I think WM should open up a lot more greeter positions because they're going to be in high demand. Believe me, I've toyed with it. As for getting older, it doesn't get better, but it does get significantly, and sometimes interestingly different. Or, as Bette Davis said: "Old age isn't for sissies."

Jocelyn said...

While I personally think you're outrageously hot and would never give up my seat on the bus to you because then I couldn't look up your skirt, I do also think you have a point that we too rarely get to see the glory of some salt-and-pepper natural hair color. I adore your hair; it's my favorite color. You're doing the world a favor in allowing it some small rememberance of what something natural looks like.