Somehow you just don't expect it to happen to you... looking in the mirror and seeing "old".
(The word "old" is in quotes here because if one thinks one is going to live forever for whatever spiritual, religious or other belief one has, the word "old" really doesn't have much meaning. I use the word to describe the ravages of time that occur on our bodies while we reside here on Earth.)
I have days when I look in the mirror and see a 30-year old and I have days when I see myself as I am... an almost 60-year old.
When I was 13, I went to our school Halloween party as Elly Mae Clampett. The Beverly Hillbillies show was popular then and I related to Elly Mae because she loved "critters" so much and was a tomboy like I was. To the party I wore jeans with the rope belt like she did and a shirt like hers and was barefoot. And I bought a cheap ponytail at the dime store that looked just like Elly Mae's, and did my hair up to look just like hers. Everyone at the party knew who I was, yes'm.
Night before last I was at the computer with my glasses on and my hair in a bun and I wasn't wearing any makeup. I was wearing my keep-the-fire-going-not-very-feminine-but-necessary-for-the-job clothes. Mike was sitting on the couch behind me and I turned around to say something to him, looking over my glasses at him.
Shortly afterwards, he said, "You're starting to remind me of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies," without giving it so much as a 2-second thought.
Does he know what he has done??? He has burned the image of Granny into my mind and it is now there like a permanently seared scar that will never ever disappear.
The part that blows me away is.... I can see it! I CAN SEE IT.
I couldn't berate Mike too much for his comment because I could see what he was talking about. But at the same time, I told him that "he don't know nuthin' about women" because telling a woman that she looks like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies is not a wise thing to do - ever. Not wise. EVER. You want to tell a woman she looks beautiful no matter what, right? Of course you do! And, to Mike's credit, he tells me I am "perfect" and beautiful a lot and I have no complaints there. But... did the truth seep out of his loose lips?
Granny's image is boinging around in my head like a bouncing ball moving about constantly, popping up when I look in the mirror and when I'm wondering about what to do with my hair and when I'm getting dressed for the day. And it doesn't help much that I still see Dogpatch when I look out the front of the cabin. I'm now officially old and live in Dogpatch. Well, isn't that just dandy?
I will be 60 years old next month. I'm not a spring chicken anymore. No matter how many lotions and potions I smear on myself, my skin is not going to bounce back to its more youthful self. I don't wanna look like Granny. I don't want to wear buns. They look elegant on young faces, but on me with jowls beginning to flap in the wind, I look like Granny. And I don't want to look over my glasses at anyone ever again!
I need a hair makeover. I need plastic surgery. I need to wear makeup again. Aaarrrrggghhhh... Old age is coming after me and I'm not ready... I'm not! Here I am wandering around thinking I'm Elly Mae... but I ain't! Granny is coming to get me and I'm trying to keep two steps ahead of her, constantly looking over my shoulder now.
'Scuse me, but I gotta go put on my runnin' shoes.