Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Winter of My Discontent
Why do people freak out so much about getting "old"? What's the big deal? Everybody gets old. It's a fact of life. It's the second law of thermodynamics. Deal with it.
Me? I'm 53 years old. I'm what society calls a "baby boomer." I hate that term. I've always hated it. I also hate those other labels: Gen X, Gen Y, Gen Z...what comes after Gen Z? Does Gen Z even exist? They sound like the names of spaceships in a sci-fi novel.
Yes. My hair is turning gray. I'm getting wrinkles on my face and age spots on my arms. So what?
And let's not forget to mention the commercials for wrinkle cream, orthopedic shoes, denture cream, ensure, depends and oat bran. Where is the "old" man or woman hiking in the mountains, building a house, flying a plane? Too adventurous? Well, then, what about going to the theatre, working in an office, fixing a car, walking a dog or even baking a cake? No, the old people are seen sitting in front of the television watching "Wheel of Fortune," wrapped in Snuggies and sipping hot tea.
I'm really starting to get annoyed at all the "age" jokes out there that ridicule and stereotype older people. I admit, I never paid much attention before. I even laughed at the humor myself. But now I take it personally and I'm offended. Call the ACLU!
Okay, let's talk about clothes. What is going on? As soon as you hit 50 you're doomed to elastic waist polyester pants and floral blouses? Do you seriously think a woman of a certain age should be walking around in mini-skirts and tank tops? Is there no middle ground?! (Yes, I'm exaggerating, but it's a rant after all.) Not that there aren't pretty clothes at all for older ladies, but you have to work hard to find them. You have to search. You have to dig. And when you find a store that sells clothes you can actually wear, you feel like a miner in the gold rush days. Eureka!
To quote Miranda Priestly in "The Devil Wears Prada": That's all.