Age Outrage

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I’m outraged! I demand a recount! I’m standing up and screaming that truth and justice be restored to their rightful place in my life! Just one month after I have rolled my chronological odometer over the 50 mark and the break down has already begun! It’s as if my warranty expired. New cars get 50,000 miles bumper to bumper. If anything breaks before that, it’s fixed back to new condition, no questions asked. After that, well, it sucks to be you. After 50, it sucks to be me!

It happened like this: I woke up on the morning of my 50th birthday and couldn’t see. I couldn’t read up close. I couldn’t see far away. So I rush off to the eye doctor only to be told… I don’t know if I can even say this… I have early stages of cataracts! What the heck?! My grandmother had cataracts, like when she was 98! I’m too young to have cataracts!

But not to panic, they have laser surgery now that can fix all your vision issues. Give you the eyes of a hawk. Well, not if you’re 50 and have early stage cataracts! And retina issues. No, I can’t have corrective laser surgery. I get glasses. But not just any glasses! No, because I’m 50! I get – oh the utter horror and shame of it all – I get BIFOCALS!

Don’t bother trying to console me. I’m too busy making an appointment to have my hair permed and dyed blue. One of my dearest friends, who happens to be several years older than me and that much further down the road of personal decay, offered to hit the sale at the mall for a pair of those sensible SAS shoes with rubber soles in neutral earth-tone colors and Velcro closures. But we’d have to go before Wheel of Fortune comes on, of course. That’s what old people like us do now, we watch Wheel of Fortune and hit the early bird special at Luby’s for a LuAnn platter. I’ll need to put a Ziploc baggie in my purse, so I can slip the roll in it to take home for breakfast the next day. Oh, and tuck an embroidered handkerchief in the sleeve of my cardigan.

But then again, I also had to remind myself that Old Ladies Rule. So I got contacts. Whatever. Who needs the rest of it? I never liked Wheel of Fortune anyway.


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Filed under Much Ado About Nothing

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