“I Assume You Need Gel Capsules”

I’d gotten used to fooling nature; people frequently assumed I was ten years younger than my age.  Overnight that changed.  Store clerks, strangers, and family members began recasting me as a little old lady needing assistance.

Contemplating how the outside world sees her

At Walgreens, in search of a shower cap, I approached a clerk for help. The pleasant young woman escorted me to the appropriate aisle. Before taking leave, she asked,  “If there anything else I can help you with?”

At the Health Food Store, shopping for vitamins, I met with this response, “I assume you need gel capsules.”

At Trader Joe’s, outfitted in my funky tweed coat, a polka dot scarf and orange beret, a middle-aged woman approached me, “You look adorable.”   I gasped, “Adorable at my age?”

Phone calls with my sons sign off with familiar cautionary advice: “keep off your brick sidewalks in snow and rain; research retirement communities before it’s too late; restrict overseas travel to train trips.”  (The implication being walking will exhaust me.)

Imagining my sons’ view of travel appropriate for my age

Who is the me the world sees?  Courageously I consult my bathroom mirror, once a friend, is now approached circumspectly. The inventory is frankly deflating: a shrunken stature, skinny frame, advanced scoliosis, a chicken neck, sagging breasts, and discernable facial lines.

Defiantly I challenge the mirror, “OK, I look elderly but I’m far more than my outward appearance.  Consider all I do:  create a weekly blog, belong to  a woman’s peace group, stay current with world affairs (These days not a happy practice.), meditate (when I remember), attend Pilates classes, and delight in entertaining friends.”

In counterpoint my wise self won’t be denied: “What about your daily afternoon naps? Ending night driving after getting spooked over double sets of headlights in approaching cars? Struggle lifting heavy objects thanks to not one, but two arthritic shoulders! Taking longer to absorb complex novels.”

I’ve joined the ranks of older women indulging in afternoon naps

Facing my wise self, I surrender graciously.  The outside world has bestowed a favor framing me as “a little old lady.”

Time for a realistic action plan:

With a cup of tea, I relaxed into a comfortable chair with paper and pen to record my intentions.  Procrastination is banished: my will updated; conversations with my sons and partner about how I want to die–declare my burial preferences (a green burial); details for my memorial service, requesting attendees to wear polka-dots, consistent with my fashion obsession.

Commit to a daily gratitude practice; listen attentively, while expressing love openly with family and friends, regretting I was not fully present to recently departed friends.

Keeping a gratitude journal

Prioritize healthy eating: more eggs and protein-packed foods without ditching chocolate chip cookies—”chocolate promotes happiness.” Self-indulgence when craving TLC: Netflix in the afternoon, a “nightgown day” when absorbed in a book I can’t put down; breakfast for dinner; mailing cards to family and friends not just on birthdays and holidays, but spontaneously throughout the year.

Chocolate chip cookies are a necessity for this little old lady

Upping my spiritual practices: mediating daily, exploring a spiritual community, like the Quakers; bestowing random acts of kindness; smiling at strangers.

Thought to self: I’ll start a club for “little old ladies,” meeting regularly to exchange notes on living out our lives with intention and compassion, awarding gold stars for eccentricity and humor.

Contenders for my “Little Old Ladies” club