When I’m Old & Grey
I love old people. They have the best stories and they’re usually pretty hilarious on account of having years to perfect their jokes. There are, of course, moany old people – but heck, if you haven’t earned the right to have a good moan about some stuff by the time you get wrinkles and liver spots, something’s wrong with the world. Sometimes I look at old people and wonder what I’ll be like at their age.
I don’t think about how I’ll look, but more about how I’ll act and I’ve decided I want to be the eccentric, crazy old lady. They’re the most fun for sure. I’ll wear colours that clash and hats, lots of hats. I’ll have a large designer handbag, but will always carry a couple of tote bags filled with random things like bread crumbs (in case I come across any ducks) and library books.
I’ll keep my hair long, maybe even stick with my signature bun and when I take my hair down, I’ll be the talk of the town. Young kids will call me Rapunzel.
The thing I’m most looking forward to about getting old is striking up conversations with strangers. See, you do that now (in England at least) and people back away from you like you have the plague. You chase after them – ‘no no, kind stranger! I just want to exchange a few words! Make a comment about the weather or something equally mundane! Don’t run off!’ But see, when you’re old, it’s like people are obliged to listen to you. You can’t just walk away from an old person. That’s rude. Being old will give me everything I’ve ever wanted: a captive audience.
Oh, I’d like to see you try to escape my crazy ramblings when I’ve got grey hair and am carrying 17 bags. Go ahead, give it your best shot. Nope, it’s better to just pull up a pew and let me regale you with stories of my five marriages, my pet goat, that time I saw a rapper called ‘Jay-Z’ in concert in New York, how I was once on the run from the Russian mafia. My stories will be ridiculously captivating (or boring, depending on what medication I’m taking that day) and you’ll have no choice but to listen.
I’ll be sure to corner you at the most inopportune moments too: on the bus, in the line at the grocery store, as you’re paying for your coffee in the rubble of Starbucks (’cause we would’ve burnt them all to the ground by the time I’m old).
I’m never gonna wear those old lady shoes with the rubber soles though. I figure the furthest I can downgrade is to a kitten heel, at best. Any lower than that would really just be a slipper.
See? I think old age will be exciting times. I get all that to look forward to, plus I’ll have a bad ass mobility scooter, sitting on nine inch rims, WHAT WHAT!
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Tags: fun times, old ladies
