I love being an old lady!

I love being an old lady.


I’m aging. Silver hair, wrinkles, and a few liver spots ensure I’m no longer referred to as a chick (cute, dumb, or otherwise) or a ditzy broad (although I have my senior moments). I don’t have to worry about spending hours on make-up, styling my hair, or wearing the latest fashion.
Men both young and old open doors for me. Clerks offer to carry out my groceries. Do they think I’m feeble or do they respect me because of my age? Either way, I don’t care. No one has been rude to me in ages, and I don’t have to stand while commuting in a public conveyance.

I don’t have to worry about fancy clothes, either. I go with the three C’s: Clean. Comfortable. And Convenient. No glittery low-rider pants with hard-to-find belt loops that always seem to come undone, tight hammertoe-creating shoes, flaking eyeliner and mascara, pokey, pushup underwire brassieres, and hand-wash only blouses.
My usual attire consists of a colorful ‘scrubs’ top with front pockets for my pen and notebook, a tissue or two, and smartphone with gray yoga pants, shorts, or sweats, depending on the season. If it’s really cold, the scrubs are replaced with a bright hoodie. After I slide into my Crocs (no chance of blisters or bunions), I’m ready to tackle the world.


There are a few negative aspects of being old. I need reading glasses, but not for gardening or watching rainbows and wild turkeys. I don’t like the achy joints that came with the years, but other than that, I’m doing okay. I beat COVID (the 2020 nasty version). My heart and lungs work well enough that I can get where I’m going. My brain still functions well enough. I may not remember what I came into a room for, but I know my name and all the important stuff: phone, social security, and where I hid my credit cards.
I’m glad I paid attention to my grandmother. I brushed my teeth, ate well (maybe too well), and still take vitamins. I have all my teeth, pertinent parts, and can cook and clean better than any woman half my age (when I want to). My advice and/or opinion is still sought (sometimes) and I can crack a joke with the best of them. True, I only get wolf whistles from my husband, but he’s the only one I want them from anyhow. And thanks to that now long-gone miserable time of life referred to as ‘the change,’ I no longer have to worry about getting pregnant. Phew!

Do I have any regrets? Yup. Don’t we all? However, I’ve learned that no matter what, I can’t change the past. I can do my best not to make the same mistakes again, can gently urge my daughters, granddaughters – and anyone else who might listen and benefit – not to make rash choices and ALWAYS treat others as they want to be treated.
Yup. Be kind, patient, and enjoy the life you have right now. Tomorrow you might be laid up from an accident, or without a job or best friend because of hasty or cruel words, or maybe have a horrible toothache because you didn’t brush your teeth.

I’m hoping to avoid all of the above discomforts because I’m getting older and, I think, wiser.

Here’s a great story about an older woman who was able to do it all over again, but in a younger body. In a different time era. And with a severe case of amnesia. Perky old lady in a young, hot body. Will her innate sense and savvy get her out of predicaments with cougars (the mountain lion-type), creeps and kidnappers? Check out NAKED IN THE WINTER WIND, #free to read with Kindle Unlimited.


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About Dani Haviland

Dani Haviland, formerly of Connecticut, Arizona, and Alaska, recently semi-retired from selling tractor parts, tools, and roses. She moved to a more temperate climate in western Oregon to pursue her passions: writing, gardening, and photography.  View website

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