My mother lives in a community for seniors and disabled. There is a minimum age to live there, possibly 65. Everyone has their own apartment but share common areas like laundry and dining hall.
A couple of weeks ago, as I was leaving, I came across a man and woman going downstairs for supper. He made a comment that someone was coming up behind them and moved ahead and to the side. She couldn’t move quite as quickly and I caught up with her. I said “Don’t worry I won’t run over you. You’re probably moving faster than I am today.” We fell into step together and she turned to look at me and asked. “You don’t have a walker? They made us get walkers so we don’t fall down.” It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Apparently I look old enough to live there.
Earlier in the day my aunt had hugged me and said “Ann Marie, you look…..”
“old” I finished.
“Well I didn’t want to say that , but since you did” is how she finished.
I guess it is time to either keep up with the hair color or just let it go white, start wearing some makeup, and get this weight off. I never paid much attention to my age in numbers, but I’m entering the final approach to 50 and don’t particularly like it.