Today I realized something. I think police and doctors probably are pretty good at determining the true age of people but the average person—not so much. How old you look to the average person seems to depend on how old they are.
This realization came to me when I was at a local health food store getting my favorite Chai tea, that I can find only at this particular store, and my cat’s favorite kitty litter. Yes, the cat is not only picky about the food she eats but has a brand of litter she prefers. Back to the age thing…
I was checking out and chatting with the cashier (who was a “mature woman” but not “old”) about the litter, her cats like it too and it’s earth friendly, I wasn’t paying attention to the total of my bill. When she told me the amount I asked if that included my senior discount. With some surprise she said, “you are a senior”? And I said, with some amusement, “yes, for a while now”. She told me how great I look and what was my secret and all that, which was very nice and made me happy.
It also made me think about all the other times I have been to this store and young people have cashiered and they just give me the discount without hesitation. They know I am a senior because I am probably older than their mother. To them I am old because they are young. To the older cahier I am, if not young, not yet old because she is near my age.
Perspective is an interesting thing.
So far I have no problem with my age. I am looking forward to being really old. Old people are like little kids—they can be cranky and act up a bit and say outrageous things and get away with it—you know it’s true.
I will have a problem with my age when people start telling me to go to my room or that it’s bedtime or to eat my vegetables. The people who start that with me will also have problems—I intend to be a really crotchety old lady someday.