I was at Joanne Fabrics shopping when I met the most adorable 18-month-old mini woman. She had on the most proper wool coat and a blond bob. Her crystal blue eyes stared up at me as she walked determinedly with her stout little legs in front of her mother through the crowded store.
I couldn't resist crouching down and chatting with her (really her mom). She was enchanting. After I turned and walked away, she followed me. Her mom didn't notice, so I said "honey, go back to momma." Momma barreled around the corner about then, grabbed her sweet child and said "Does that lady remind you of grandma?"
She was talking about ME.
Grandma. I will delight in being a grandma whenever it happens. I am ready willing and able to be a grandma. My life partner, Steve, has three grandchildren, who I delight in spoiling and enjoy playing with. Being a grandparent will rule.
But this gal knew I was old enough.
My secret undercover age is gone. Because my entire life, very few people have ever guessed my age correctly. I was carded up until I was almost 40. Mostly this is because I'm small. 5-foot to be exact. It makes you look young.
In our culture looking young is a big deal. So when I was in my 20s and watching other women age, I saw some of them get plastic surgery, face lifts, eye lifts, boob lifts... and I decided then and there that I would never do this. These women were beautiful and their age did nothing to change that. In my 20-something opinion, they didn't need to change a thing.
Later I had a daughter (ok, much later... I was 38 when she was born.) I repledged myself to abstain from plastic surgery at this time. I didn't want Claire to ever think there was anything wrong with aging.
When Claire was 8, we were both looking in the mirror, and I said something to the effect of when she was older she would have earned all the lovely lines and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that showed years of smiles and life. My dear sweet daughter screwed up her face and peered at me in the mirror. She finally said, "Gosh I hope not."
I still laugh out loud at that memory. So much for my quest to show her one can age with dignity and beauty. At almost 50, it has grown increasingly difficult to abstain from a little lift here, some collagen there, or maybe that poisonous stuff that they inject into your forehead.
But somewhere lurking under the surface of my slightly saggy body, my slightly wrinkly face is the 20-something, and my ideals remain intact and my body remains au naturel. And someday when I die, it'll all be worm food anyway, at least my worms will be able to eat every bite!!!