Photo: Ileana Johnson 2013 |
Looking good is torture! Wearing stretchy clothes is heaven
on textile. Stilettos were invented by men who convinced women, who desired to
look like the big screen plastic stars they were never going to be like, that
walking on stilts will somehow make them more attractive, svelte, and desirable
to men. But our generation of 50 year-olds wear orthopedic shoes with painless joy
and secretive pride.
Constantly digging floss out of their rear ends, young and
middle-aged women torture themselves and get awful bacterial infections so that
their derrieres are more attractive in thongs and clothes show no panty lines
just in case someone happens to ogle them.
The t-shirt, flannel shirt, football jersey, sweats, and
pajamas become necessary wardrobe implements for someone’s comfort after the
age of 50. After all, people born in the 1950s have lived in seven decades and
two centuries, we earned the right to fall off the fashion train and adopt the
liberal Birkenstock sandals worn proudly with white knee high socks.
Then you can be liberated from the crowded and expensive shopping
malls. Good Will becomes quite attractive and cheap, especially in a well-to-do
neighborhood where donated clothes are practically new.
It’s good to be over the hill if you want 50 cents discount
on meals at McDonalds. On the other hand, who wants to admit they are on the
downside of life for 50 cents? You can take naps any time of day without being
thought of as lazy and nobody cares what you look like unless you are carrying
the remnants of the last meal on your chin or shirt.
You can stop sucking in your stomach around your friends and
relatives. They already know you have a
gut and nobody is fooled by your pretend svelteness. Besides, your face starts
turning blue if you hold your breath in for too long.
Walking and farting in unison with each step becomes a
necessary Beano gut cleansing, a sort of yoga without the contortions, the head
stand, or the humming.
Going out to dinner after the age of 50 becomes an early
bird excursion at four in the afternoon.
The restaurants are quiet, the help is awful, but you avoid the balding
liberals with their young progeny and trophy wives eating at 9 p.m. and disturbing
the entire restaurant. You go to bed by nightfall because you can.
You stop speeding because the road looks perennially foggy
but cops ticket you now for going too slow and for forgetting to turn off the turn
signal, confusing other drivers. Every other driver, frustrated by your
slowness, gives you the finger because you block the faster lane but you wave
at them with a silly and toothless grin.
If you want to know about the weather tomorrow, you no
longer turn to the weather forecast, you just consult the level of pain in your
arthritic joints. And you’ve learned to look at the phases of the moon to tell
whether it will rain tomorrow or not.
It’s acceptable now to stay in pajamas all day and even wear
them under clothes with a slight peek of flannel from under your high-water
pants. People will ask you when they call during the day if they woke you up
and nobody will get offended.
You can now tell all your deep, dark , and embarrassing secrets
to your friends over lunch because your secrets will be as safe as Fort Knox –
nobody will remember a thing after they wake up from the early afternoon nap.
Loud music will no longer be annoying because you can turn down
your hearing aid and smile, nodding in agreement with everything.
Go ahead and take those around the world tours you’ve been
saving yourself for your entire life. Make sure there are wheelchair ramps and
the cobble stone or unpaved roads are wheelchair friendly. Take a good supply
of diapers, diarrhea pills, and bribe money. Don’t worry, nobody would want to
take you hostage abroad in order to demand ransom! They know your family does not want you back.
And don’t forget your health care insurance card. After all
these years of paying high premiums, you are finally beginning to get some
returns on your investment. The doctor knows you by your first name and is glad
that you are helping pay his child’s expensive liberal tuition at Harvard.
Copyright: Ileana Johnson 2015
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