So it happened again.
“WOW, you don’t look 48” a business colleague said. Jerk!
Do men not realize that age may be a sensitive subject for some women? I don’t know about other women but for this cat, it’s like entering the sketchiest area of Detroit during a riot.
DON'T go there!
Just like 99.9% of the people I know, I have a couple of quirky hang ups. I hate being late, I hate not having a plan, and I hate that I am getting old (them right thar are pretty much my top three)! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking Services Ontario for a wheelchair parking sticker anytime soon, but I would love not to have to dye my hair EVER again.
I am of the firm opinion that age is a mindset; you’re only as old as you feel, and as young as your imagination will allow. It’s a number, not a gauge of who I am. I am active in both mind and body, and I don’t see either of 'em stopping anytime soon. Why would they? Why should they?
What did I say to the person that assessed who I was based on the number 48? “It’s been nice meeting you. You’re 45 right?... Ya don’t look a day over 58 1/2. Oh, and the deliveries? They are at the rear!”
That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I just turned down his very generous lunch invitation. The loss is his.
What can I say? Us gray haired mamas gotta have some very high standards!