I’m 54. It’ll be another 10 years before I’ve reached the endearing age of the Beatles hit from Yellow Submarine.
There don’t seem to be many economic changes that kick in at 54. I can’t even get senior coffee at McDonald’s for another year. But David Smidt, president of seniordiscounts.com, (Find Gold in the Golden Years) offers reassurance: You’d be surprised who will shave off a percentage for a 55-plus customer if they ask. We have apartment complexes, Lincoln and Cadillac dealerships, car washes, tree service, lawn care, plumbers, handymen …
As a full-time RV-er, I’m not sure how many of these services I’ll need, still, good to know.
There have been some personal age related changes, though. I started getting AARP cards in the mail when I turned 49. That was 9 years after I began highlighting my hair. Delora was my hairstylist and my friend. One day she said: Debbie, you’re starting to get a few grey hairs around your face, lets just blend them in with some highlights. We blended for the next 11 years.
After I left the Midwest, I tried a couple more times, but never found anyone who could make the highlights look like they came from an artist’s pallet instead of a squirt bottle, so I quit.
My eyesight isn’t the best and I don’t spend much time in front of the mirror. You can’t begin to imagine my surprise as I was getting ready for work, back when I still had to dress up for work, and I looked a bit closer than usual at my reflection. I was dumbfounded! I’d gone from 53, looking like 43, to 53 looking like 63 overnight!
That little bit of grey around my face, hidden beneath highlights now long gone, was apparently a white contagion that had infected two-thirds of my hair. It doesn’t run in my family. Maybe I was adopted. No one else has green eyes either…
About once a week, I plop Henry in the shower with me. It’s so dang dusty here that it’s a necessary to afflict this torture on his small frame.
He stands very still, which is good since an RV shower stall gives new definition to elbow room. In an RV, it’s a room where, if you put your hands on your hips and turn full circle, you can touch all 4 walls with your elbows.
Once Henry’s shower is complete, I finish mine.
I dutifully picked up the razor, as I have every time I’ve showered since I was 11. Today, for some reason, I opened my eyes. I never open my eyes in the shower. I don’t like getting soap in my eyes. Maybe I’m harboring some subconscious fear of what I’ll see, I don’t know. Anyway, I opened my eyes and there they were, my completely naked arm pits. When did that happen? How many years have I been squint-eyed shaving away at nothing?
I must be going through reverse puberty. Next week I’ll likely develop a case of acne and before you know it my front tooth will start to wiggle, but at least I’ve shaved 10 seconds off my showers!
How about you? Is there anything about your current age that’s come as a surprise?