Loose Ends
How old do you think I am? r
Susan Nienow

Last week I was on the second floor of a local department store with a friend of mine. We were looking around, trying to decide where we wanted to go when a nice young thing came up, put her hand on my arm and asked if we needed any help. I smiled and said, "No, but thanks for asking."

What I wanted to say was, "Just how old (substitute 'befuddled' or 'addled') do you think I am, anyway? Do I look like I can't find my way around?" I chose to respect her age and gave her the benefit of the doubt. She must be younger than she looks and thinks anyone over 30 is …well … in need of her help.

Later in the day I caught myself reading the details in an ad for laser resurfacing - guaranteed to take years off my skin. It would change my life - not necessarily a good thing. Driveways get resurfaced but my face?

The next page of the magazine featured several dentists with teeth that matched their white coats. They want to veneer my teeth so I can look years younger. This sounds promising. How many years younger are we talking here?

Once, my other half and I had a long list of errands to do on a really icy day. People I know who aren't that much younger than I am warned me to look out for the slippery spots. Then my other half had to mention the ice in the parking lot before I got out of the car and then again when we left the store. He pleaded innocent of age discrimination, but that was two warnings too many for me.

Is there something I am doing that is making me look older? Are my roots showing? (Forget I asked that.) Is it the way I am walking? Is it because I like a large purse, not one of those little things that hold a cell phone and a credit card?

I am beginning to wonder if I am working on repressed issues left over from my last birthday which, at the time, I thought was uneventful. The thing about age issues is I can't afford to waste any time dealing with them. Every hour counts now.

Are people holding the door for me more often than they used to? The bagger in the grocery store asked if he could carry my groceries. I only had one bag that was half full. Was he instructed to ask everyone if he could help, or did I look infirm or unsteady on my feet?

I knew when I signed up for a year at the gym that some - maybe even most - of the exercisers would be younger than I am, probably significantly. I was right, but I'm not the only one who won't wear spandex. Baggy works for me when I am doing crunches and avoiding doing lunges and squats.