Senior citizenship has arrived
It’s happened. I’ve reached senior citizen status totally and completely.
I knew it was coming and not because I celebrated a birthday that put me over the century mark this year.
I have been very careful in concealing my age: hair color, contact lenses, snappy shoes and no support hose. But, even all of the torture, time and effort that I have put into trying to appear younger than my age, I’ve lost the battle.
I learned, and accepted, the loss over the past week.
It all started on Thursday when I went to see my doctor about some hip pain. Yes, I know. I should have had a clue when it was my hip that was hurting. But I hadn’t fallen, and it wasn’t broken so being old never crossed my mind as a possible diagnosis of the pain. After a little twisting, pulling and grunting and I think maybe even a tsk, tsk or two, my doctor suggested we might be looking at a little arthritis in the hip. He also suggested other possibilities but I didn’t hear a word after he said arthritis … really? Me? Surely not. I shrugged it off, took the prescription and went about my business.
Next, I was called upon to go to a particular event before 8 a.m. Saturday morning. It’s not that I mind – I actually enjoy getting out among folks who are busy doing something productive, it’s just that no one thought I might want to sleep in.
Seriously, even I know that people of somewhat advanced age don’t usually sleep past 6 or 7 a.m. on any day of the week.
That would have been enough, but the weekend just kept on going.
Since I had to do a little traveling this weekend, I found myself driving through some fast-food lanes to pick up a meal or two. At one establishment, the clerk took my money, made my change and handed it back to me at the window complete with a “there you go honey.”
Now, normally, when a young man hands you something and calls you honey it’s a good thing. But after a moment or two to let the “honey” part sink in it hit me: He thinks I’m an old woman.
Devastated. Yep. I was crushed. Didn’t my cute little “hip” car make me appear younger than I am at least in the drive-through? Nope. I guess not.
That was Saturday night. Then on Sunday evening some 80 miles away from the first restaurant, it happened again. Only this time I was “sweetie” and it was a 20-something lady doing the sweetie calling. Not a good thing.
So, back at home I tried to shake it from my mind. The medicine I began on Friday was helping tremendously and I hadn’t even thought about my aches until I sat down in my easy chair and put my feet up. I then realized it was only 7 p.m. and I was sleepy.
Hello senior citizen discount. At least I have that.
Lisa Tindell is news editor for The Brewton Standard. She can be reached by email at firstname.lastname@example.org