It’s that time of year when the urge to buy prevails. Black Friday, cyber-Monday, small business Saturday. Shop, shop, spend, spend. I’m not much of a shopper, and this time of year propels me out of my comfort zone. The process that requires me to spend time shopping for gifts, then spend money to buy those gifts is anathema to me. But, this is nothing compared to the year-round struggle I have with another type of expenditure, which is my reluctance to spend emotional capital on bias. Yep, geezer goddesses, 12 months a year we are blanketed with negative ads directed at us. Old, senior, over-the-hill, out of touch, out of date. These are the messages, but we don’t have to listen. I say, no way! 2015 is the year I put down my foot, hard, and say:
Ah, age. The last great frontier. We’ve put humans on the moon, at the bottom of the sea and other places we don’t belong because of our great penchant for mucking things up. Yet, we can’t seem to come to terms with aging. It’s like a disease that we go to great lengths to ignore or, conversely, blame everything that’s wrong in our lives on “getting old.”
I’ve never been a person to take hints, orders or suggestions. I love the motto that “what you think of me is none of my business” (and, I’m trying to live by it). No one can tell me if my thighs are the right size, if my age precludes a style or if I have a right to bare arms. I haven’t lived long enough to outgrow my stubborn streak, and, in fact, said streak is improving with time. Like a fine wine or an aged gouda.
Looking for a resolution? Join me in my refusal to buy the bias. Older is bolder. Nothing more.