Old Women

It has been years since I committed to a blog. My friends and family have begged, lectured and cajoled me with the best of intentions while I frittered (does anyone still say that?) away time and energy trying to find the “right” platform, niche, pagan ritual, etc.

I have figured out none of those things.

I am nothing if not a master of nothing. I have spent years trying like hell not to get old and it seems that is the only thing I have accomplished. So maybe that’s what I’ll write about.

Getting older.

I’ll tell you why. Because little old ladies aren’t supposed to flip you the bird. They are supposed to bake you cookies or send you birthday money. They are supposed to tell you how to save your dying begonia or be thrilled at the prospect of looking after your squalling brat.
“Oh gracious me! What a darling!”

Yeah? Give me your kids for a couple hours and I’ll show them some shit. Teach you to do that again.

I have written about the stages of a woman’s life and will again I am sure as my own “Cronedom” approaches. But today on my mother’s 78th birthday (please don’t kill me) I want to explore an aspect or two of getting older that just aren’t goddamn fair.

For some reason when you reach a certain age you are supposed to stop being who you are and become a sweet little old lady. And if you resist this transition you are a pain in the ass that must be pushed from a cliff as soon as timing and weather permit.

If you thought maintaining a perfect body, raising perfect children, having a successful career and marriage was hard. Wait till you see what new expectations and constraints the world has for you.
Now that you are older, you are expected to be patient and wise.

Even if you were an intolerant moron when you were young. You see kids that’s the dirty little secret. You still feel like the same person you did when you were young. Its the world that starts to treat you differently. It no longer finds you sexually appealing so your opinions no longer count. The only good news is that thanks to your new found perspective, you are not required to give a shit.

Some days you won’t be able to help yourself though. One day some know it all child waitress will call you honey as if she is talking to her future toddler and you will have to stifle the urge to knock the bitch out.

Don’t do it she’s a Pilates instructor on the weekends. Your bones are not what they used to be.

Oh hey! Here’s a new one!
Thanks to the internet and the magic of surgery and fillers you can also be a GILF. (That’s MILF with Grandma instead of Mother)

I am not yet experiencing my cronedom ( I invented this word) and am now at full blown Evil Queen trying desperately to maintain my looks for as long as possible. I still work for a living so I don’t have a choice.

Ok. I don’t have an amazing conclusion to this short post, I have a dozen. My writing muscle is rusty. So in conclusion I just want to say Happy Birthday Mama. It has been a wonderful journey with you while we traverse the indignities of being a woman, discovering each new one together, and trying to keep our sense of humor along the way.

Love you.