Is It Worth 44 Cents?

Mother's Day 2010
This was taken the day before my story.

When I take my shower in the morning and get ready for the day, I’m never certain how the process will turn out.  The end results are rather important to me, because try as I might, my day is affected by my hair and my clothes.  When either of them turns out beneath my not-too-high standards, my mood is a little “off” for the day.

Well, yesterday was an “on” day.  The hair, with the help of about six products, turned out fluffy and casual.  The clothes I chose, just suited my exuberant mood and I was off and running.  My day was going to be fantastic.  I had nothing planned and could do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted.  I chose to shop a little, eat a lot, and go where the wind blew me.

Now, I want to mention, again, that I was “looking good”!  The mirror and my attitude showed it.  I felt 16, maybe 18 years old, sure that I would be approached and flirted with as no one could resist the happy and wondrous energy that I was radiating.  I knew that not many women my age could actually go undercover, so to speak, this way and transform themselves into a youthful clone of themselves.  I was a 62-year-old woman transformed to a younger and sexier version of myself.  Woo Hoo.

I passed on of my favorite places to eat and drove through the drive-thru ordering a large diet coke and an order of fried zucchini.  I was pleased that I had the correct amount of change in my car to equal exactly the $4.87 that the meal cost.  I waited in anticipation of getting one of my favorite foods as well as divesting myself of some of my change.  Life is good, all systems go.

I drove up the window looking and feeling great.  I even had a youthful pair of sunglasses on.  Rock out!  The girl at the window looked at me and said, “Are you a senior?  You get a discount.  It’s not much, but it helps.”  Forced back into reality, I admitted my senility.  For that, I got a discount of $ .44.  Hrrrrrumph!  My coinage was no longer perfect and I ended up getting more change. 

I drove away wondering, “What in the world would make her think that I was a senior?”  My eyes were covered, my hair had no grey, just a beautiful and expensive dye and bleach job.  My body is slim.  My clothes are appropriately youthful.  I suppose she could have seen the thinning, bleached out faded hair, the old wrinkly skin, the drooping chin line, the skinny sunken lips, the paper thin skin, the weird desert-dry crinkly skin under my neck down to my toes, the “wings” flapping under my arms, the capped teeth, the nose and facial hair, not to mention the mustache.  Sigh.

I had to cop to being the 62-year-old lady and not the 18-year-old girl.  Well, OK then, I’ll take the $.44, thank you, but you can’t make me old on the inside.  Inside, I am silly and free-willed and impish and mischievous.  Inside, I can be and I AM the girl of my youth.  My little girl may be getting wiser, but she will never get old.

Someday, I may be hunched over, with drool coming out of the mouth of my wrinkly face.  My body may be all, but useless, still, on the inside I will be dancing in fields of flowers thinking of what my next adventure will be.  I hope they have super-senior discounts by then.