Saturday, August 13, 2011
Fifty, AARP, and Senior Discounts
I turn fifty next week. I'm really looking forward to it, as I'm pretty much done with my forties, and fifty has so much clout. Fifty is the age where you start figuring it out, where you take all those astonishingly bad decisions that were made during your twenties, thirties, and forties, and put them to good use. Fifty is when all your sorry-ass mistakes of the last ten decades have fermented to perfection, and you get to drink them like a fine wine; you know – get drunk on your imperfections and toast to your humanity.
Fifty is also when you become a member of AARP. I got my notification this week – jeepers, what a cold shower on all my waxing wisdom! And speaking of waxing, fifty is when you start waxing not only your upper lip, but your chin as well. Fifty is the age when you're required to start using expressions like 'jeepers'. Fifty used to be the official age of decline, but they've raised that by a couple decades, so at fifty you're still on the incline, assuming that your knees are good.
Then there's the down side to fifty. It's the age where ladies start caking on their make-up, and it slides around to create landfills in those crevasses around the eyes and mouth. If you've already reached fifty and think you're exempt, then you may want to have an eye exam, just in case. Trust me. Do it. I did, and was astonished to see that I was indeed a Caker. But if you're one of those gals who's over fifty and in denial about aging, then don't bother, because the preservation of vanity is contingent on weak eyesight. Just stay away from the rouge, huh? Notorious for its propensity to relocate after application, rouge makes rosy those areas that are better left pallid.
But hey, it's not all so dreadful, really. I'm an AARP gal now. My mom tells me I can get discounts all over the place. Fifty-cent coffee down to WalMart. Dollar off prescriptions on Fridays. And 2-for-1 on Attends® when you buy a pallet. Already I got old men winking at me, but that's nothing new; I've always been the geezer pleaser. So all things considered, things are lookin' good. I got my health and marbles, my body parts are in more or less the same location as they've always been, I got a new matronly hairdo (thanks to my hairstylist who refuses to let me grow my hair out), I can still bend over to tie my tennies, and I got some seriously wonderful friends. And I've got my creative work, so if all else fails and they lock me up somewhere, why, jeepers! I'll just cut up holy books til they lay me down in the good earth, and hope that my make-up is good.