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How do You Know you’ve Become an Old Woman

October 19, 2011

I have never been one of those vain women who are always shopping to make themselves look better.  In fact, I was quite surprised when in a conversation with my college friends circa 1979 about 6 years ago, they told me I was the prettiest among us college chums of about 6-10 girls.  You know how it is, some girls get married, some drop-out, or some move on to other schools or other areas, so there is always a core group of about 4 girls meeting one or two new girls and alliances change every few months.

My last ex-boyfriend (hopefully not the last) was still with me then, and naturally he said:  Erm… I am not surprised.  Your friends are all so plain looking that in comparison you are the best-looking among them.  Hah!  That’s why we’re no longer together.

So how do I know I’ve become an old woman?

  • – The first sign was when I lost that last boyfriend.
  • – I can’t wear high heels anymore
  • – I can’t breathe when I am wearing a brassiere, so I let those old boobies droop.
  • –  I prefer to ride a bus, I don’t want to drive a car because my knees sometimes hurt.
  • – The bus conductor charges me less for “senior citizen” discount, without my asking for it.
  • – When attending a meeting or a conference or having a group dinner, I can squeeze a young man’s biceps, or tap his shoulder without worrying what anyone would say.  
  • – When I am falling in line for something, some of the people ahead of me gives me the right to go on ahead.
  • – When I go to relieve myself, I check out first if the “water closet” or cubicle with the “wheelchair” sign is open so I can use that instead.
  • – I consider and check-out freelancing jobs with a “naughty” or adult content.  If you’re not doing it anymore and you’re too ashamed to go enter those blatant sex sites, at least you have an excuse that you’re doing it in the guise of work, as a professional.
  • – When I went to shop for underpants or panties last week  – that 17 year-old saleslady showed me the “big mama” panties.  I told her I am the “t-back” or “tanga” type customer and she smiled indulgently.  At least I got those hi-cut/hi-leg bikinis.

So now, I have my musings and my postings.  I have too many old clothes and I don’t have the heart to shop for new ones anymore.  I wear old rags and t-shirts with sleeves cut-off.  My pretty nieces and granddaughters consider me an eccentric “old biddy”.

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