...I certainly don't want to be an old woman. My DD hums this tune* as she moves around the house. It is quite catchy. When I grow I want to be an old woman. Old, old, old, old woman... She of course can sing this mindlessly, she is nowhere near old with two and half children! She can sing the song for its catchiness and not thing of the larger and annoying implications.
Believe me I get the point of the commercial. Growing up involves growing old, and growing old involves surviving preventable disease. I get it! But none of those old women look like me. Not just because they're not African American but because they're ...well...they're old! Even though they look spry. I will bet money I don't have that "spry" is only used in reference to people who are considered old.
Recently I realized that I was just four - four I say - years shy of the age that as a child I thought was ancient/near death. Really, it was recent - like last week. I mean I have been counting (even though not sharing) my years on this earth. But somehow it alluded me that I was approaching the "ancient/near death age". Now what? I'm not hardly ancient. I'm not hardly old. I still turn a head or two (never mind that the heads I turn happen to be a lot older than they used to be! sigh)
At the risk of sounding like an old woman... where exactly did the time go?
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