Embracing Your Silver Alert Status
How to age with grace
FYI NOTE: That’s me in the photo modeling a 1920s swimsuit for my Etsy page. I searched for a photo of an elderly woman having fun — then I remembered I’m a funny old lady. I joked about submitting this photo to Sports Illustrated for the swimsuit issue.
Spring means taxes are due, sod needs to be laid out, and my 70th birthday will breeze in with the new season.
The landmark age is no biggie.
Really it’s no big deal at all.
It’s really not.
It’s just a number. Right?
A rather large number, but still, just a couple of digits. As they say, what’s the alternative? Of course, THEY are probably not turning 70.
No longer can I try on the idea of being a senior, an elder, an old lady. I own it. If in doubt, all I have to do is read my own mail that has escalated from grave plot advertisements to cremation urns. I’m also a candidate for a Silver Alert. If I get confused on the freeway or forget to tell the family I purposely went off the grid to be alone, a random granny-scoffer could easily make the call.
“911. What’s the emergency?”
“There’s a suspicious old lady on the freeway. Don’t be fooled by the fluorescent red hair.”
