TO DENY OR NOT TO DENY
Some seniors don't like to tell their age ...but some love to! Bev, a woman in our group
casually throws it into a sentence...any sentence, any time.
"When I turned 92 this year..." OR, "For a 92 year old I'm expected to ..." OR "Since I'm 92..."
on and on a few times a day...everyday. Of course she should be proud of it ...but it's
just too much! And our moans and groans over it totally disinterest her.
And then to the other side of this 'age' problem...the one who doesn't want to 'admit' hers.
Maggie has reached her 92nd year also,and seems embarrassed by it.Why? Did she think that she
looked much much younger...(like 91)? So she simply ignores the subject altogether.When it comes up in general conversation her eyes take on a faraway look as though she was on a tropical isle under swaying palms. But we who know her recognize that it is just her way of avoiding the subject at hand.
Then we had the pleasure of a group of pre-teens who came to entertain we 'seniors' (old ladies).
Afterwards we enjoyed talking to them and I wondered what their perception was of us. I asked one girl with blond pony tails how old she thought I was. She answered without hesitation. "100."
I laughed and moved into the crowd. Did she really think so? I wondered and stopped
another girl with a reddish pony tail, and asked her the same question. I liked her answer better, "Sixty," "Thanks!" I said, and I thought, Not too bad , I was 20 years older than that.
When I told a group of our ladies about this exchange they laughed and applauded. Maggie asked me to point out that girl, the redhead, she wanted to hear the same answer that I got. I could see that she was all ready to run off to look for her. And I thought, 'Wouldn't it be fun if I sent her to the other one instead, the "hundred" girl? Maggie's denials of being 100 could be comical. I started to, but at the last second my conscience clicked in. It was just too mean.
THE END
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