It finally happened. Friday night hubs and I went out for a quick bite. We were offered the Senior Discount…
…without asking for it.
I’m not gonna lie; it stung a bit. Not because I don’t like saving money; it stung because for the first time someone openly acknowledged that what is seen on the outside doesn’t match how I feel on the inside. Inside I feel like a 25-year-old (well, on most days). On the outside I look like who I am, a woman in her 50s. I’ve never asked for a senior discount because frankly, I forget that many businesses entitle me to have one. I just don’t feel “that old.”
Now, let me be the first to say, there’s nothing wrong with being a woman in her 50s. I wouldn’t go back to being in my 30s or 40s for ANYTHING. Many of us in our 50s have become comfortable in our own skin. We have a new-found confidence that can only come from circling the block a few times. I can now have difficult business and personal conversations that at one time would have terrified me. I no longer define myself by what others think of me. I’ve grown from hard knocks. I’ve peeled away some onion layers. I’ve shed some skin. Name the age-related euphymism and I’ve done it. I bet you have to.
Sure, I can do some things to look younger. I can get in better shape; I’m working on that. I could color my gray streaks, but I’d rather become a silver fox. I could get a facelift, but I’m too cheap and I’m not crazy about the look some people have following one too many procedures.
Instead, following a weekend of thinking about it, I’ve allowed that well-meaning young lady who rang up our Zalad orders to remind me to embrace the aging process. I’ll always want to put my best face forward even as that means crows feet, laugh lines (I want to earn lots of those), a sagging neck and a mane full of silver.
Now that the little shock has worn off, I think it’s time to own my Gray Pride. Who’s with me?