I have always dreamed of being one of the beautiful women that I have seen on screen. Imagine a close-up image of Grace Kelly. Fluid motion, precise steps, and beauty that is timeless. It isn’t that I want to emulate her looks, it is the confidence and inner grace that I admire most.
Imagine a close-up image of me. Fluid motion, precise steps, and (I almost had you going there, didn’t I?) Reality; fluid motion interrupted by coffee tables, chair legs, walls and other non-moving objects. Precise steps interrupted by gravity, imperfect footing, uneven surfaces and the vote of the union of inanimate objects that has put a hit out on me. I think gravity is the ring-leader.
As for the timeless beauty that I possess, I like to think that the beauty I wake up with right out of bed is a tool. It has come in handy over the years when I have had kids whose alarm clocks go off but they do not stir from their blissful slumber. Cue me to stage right. I gently wake them with a nudge, and as they open their eyes they glimpse my beauty in its full uncombed glory and shoot out of bed like rockets. Works every time. So while I dreamed of looking like a famous actress, I never suspected my look-alike would be the bride of Frankenstein.
Picking a Number
I know people who regularly play the lottery and have a system for how they choose the numbers that they play. I have developed a system for determining which number to pick when the conversation comes up about age.
If the person with whom I have the conversation is close to my parent’s age I know that I am safe to say my legal number. In their eyes, I still have some time to go. If the person is close to the age of my children I usually ask how old their parents are and if the number is better, I go with that. If I am talking to someone who is a tween or new teenager I try to avoid it all together. I find that asking about snap-chat or their favorite Meme is far more interesting. If the person asking is under ten, I usually just say that I’m like forty. They always turn their sad serious eyes towards me and pat my hand. No words are necessary. They hug me and reach into my pocket. They know all old people carry candy.
In conclusion, I begin the journey of another new year. I haven’t decided how old I plan to be moving forward. Forty sounds okay. Way back when I was a teenager I had to get out my ID to convince people I was old enough to drive. Never mind me ever thinking I was going to convince anyone that I was eighteen. 21? I didn’t even try.
Now I’m feeling a little bit nostalgic. Maybe I need to learn to act my age? A wise person once said, “I would act my age, but I’ve never been this old before.”