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Age is just a number, goes the old platitude. It's true and I don't have
a problem with it. The problem is ~ all the others!
Of course,
it's great to be fit and attractive, to keep your brain synapses healthy by
seeking knowledge and stretching your mind; your body healthy by doing
sustainable, appealing exercises. I'm not saying "youthful." I don't
want a face devoid of wrinkles as it would make the rest of me look rather
odd.
But -
sometimes - on a good hair day (and a good skin/slim tum day) people take me for younger, although that may depend, partly, on the
quality of the light and whether they are wearing their specs or not. But if
someone says, "You look good," well, that's better than "You
look good for your age!" If I look good, tell me so and leave it at that,
because actually I'm okay about my age. If others have a problem with it, then
tough!
When you think
about it, we are probably the luckiest generation, with improved healthcare,
more money, wonderful beauty products and clothes, and all the secret little
processes carried out in high street beauty salons to fix a flaw here and
there. But, sometimes, just sometimes, keeping yourself young and fit can work
against you.
Concessions for Seniors
I feel miffed
when I ask for a concession at a local theatre or cinema, and the booking clerk
wants to see identification. Do I look dishonest? Do I look as though I am so
desperate, that I would lie
about my age to save a few
pennies? Seething, I wait while my details are checked, then, suddenly, a
rush of... well, something approaching self-satisfaction. Because - in a way -
it's a compliment. They actually don't believe I'm old enough to be entitled to
a concession.
The next time, when the person doesn't ask, or I quickly try to
foist some form of confirmation on them, and they say, "Oh, that's all
right, don't bother," I think, "Hmmm, so do I look such an old bag
you're happy to wave me through?" Sometimes people just can't win
and I must stop being oversensitive.
Bus Passes
One of the
most unsettling experiences I ever had on the bus was the day I sat in the
front seats, especially designated "Priority Seats for the Disabled, Elderly
and those Less Able to Stand." Usually, I left those seats for those
worse off than me, but that day all seats at the back were taken and I was,
frankly, exhausted. So, as I settled down in the front, a middle-aged woman
leapt on the bus and as she turned to climb the stairs, she shouted at me,
"Those seats are for old people." At the time I was
68!
I read
recently in the paper that scientists have just done a study and decided that
old age starts at 69. I'd be interested to see how they arrived at such a
specific evaluation, Is it legal to discriminate?
No, I'm not Workshy!
Also, people
who see you around a lot, sometimes ask, rather belligerently, "Why aren't
you working?" as though they think I am a scrounger on benefits so I can
swan around all day, shopping and drinking Brancott with my friends.
Then, of
course, occasionally in a pub, a gentleman might want to buy me a drink.
Mention, in passing, a class I am doing at the U3A (University of the Third
Age) and there'll be a stunned silence and then said gentleman beats a hasty
retreat.
Well, I wasn't interested in him anyway. Prefer them younger,
actually.
If you Speak to Me Slowly and Loudly, I Might Understand
One day I went
to a new dentist and she glanced at my records and began to talk to me in a
very slow, measured and loud voice. For a moment it seemed she had a speech
impediment. Poor young lady! I thought. I stared at her in sympathy. Then, as she kept repeating herself, I realised what had happened.
She'd just spotted my age on her chart and she'd assumed... what? Well,
one day I might need someone to talk to me like that, perish the thought, but
at least, for the time being, give me the benefit of the doubt.
In the end,
you have need to have a sense of humour. But overall, it's great, not only
looking smart and up-to-date, but also believing that age is just a number.
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