Fifty is the new 46. On a good day. In indirect sunlight. My delusion places me right there with the likes of the grand dames of ubergraceful aging--Diane Keaton, Sigourney Weaver, Susan Sarandon. You read about their rejection of surgical intervention in magazines like More. And you think, "you go, girl," right before you haul out the spackle, trying to achieve a happy medium between aging hipster and circus clown. Not too much color. Light-diffusing foundation. (Yes, I will gladly spend my last $10 on this modern-day miracle. In a food vs. makeup cage match, make-up inevitably triumphs.)
I artfully dab a little pinky-bronze lip gloss on which immediately seeps into the lip lines around my mouth. Next, I choose a slightly trendy though entirely age-appropriate outfit which I boldly accessorize. I look in the mirror and realize I look like a contemporary version of Auntie Mame.
Then, it's off to one of the infrequent freelance gigs at a downtown Chicago ad agency. I will spend the day mixing it up with twenty-somethings in the businessplace version of a mosh pit.
Low cubicles. Insane noise levels. Cell phones ringing in addition to regular phones.
Cloaked in my carefully arranged look, I remind myself of two important things....
When I hear, "hey dude, it's time for the meeting," chances are I'm being summoned.
And always remember to tuck my AARP card into the deep recesses of my wallet.
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3 comments:
On the bright side, you're that much closer to Super Discount Wednesdays at Kohl's. Just sayin'.
See how much I'm learning doing this blog? Who knew? Do I get an extra 10% when I'm a senior?
Just tell those EchoBoomers that they better give mad props to your efforts, else you'll put your gat up in their grille...there's no dissin someone who's trying to get some endz--however duff they may be.
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