As I was getting ready for my Optometrist appointment this morning I noticed a gray hair so I plucked it out. Then I found another one. And then another one. I’m full of vice and sin but vanity isn’t one of them so I ignored it.

Got to the doctors and they did the exam complete with eye drops that make you look like a hypno-toad. My new glasses cost almost as much as my rent. ‘They’d better be made of solid gold and grant wishes!’ I whisper to Sean. I need a stronger prescription….again. I begin to contemplate the ramifications of blindness. How would I draw? Play video games? Watch TV, read, and use the computer? How would I raise children?

Chill, I tell myself, you’re being paranoid. Still, coke bottle lenses don’t scream sessy! Just then Sean pulls another gray hair from my head. Great.

We finally get done at the optometrists and decide to have some lunch. Our town is the size of a thimble and offers such fine dining as Arby’s, McDonald’s and Jack In the Box. We decide to eat at the fanciest place available, Sizzlers. I order a steak/shrimp/chicken meal and the salad bar and Sean gets the salad bar as usual. Sean eats nothing but salad and ice cream but I make an effort to have a more balanced meal. Cottage cheese, grapes, cantaloupe, salad. I even throw in a tiny bit of what I think is coleslaw. It’s not. Good thing the waitress left us extra napkins.

I completely ignore my meal because just like always I realize there’s no way I can eat the meal and my plate from the salad bar. Oh well, now I have dinner for later. As I’m eating I notice that the food isn’t particularly cold or fresh and start to think about the types of exotic diseases I’ll probably come down with as a result of eating at a buffet. A few years ago this never would have crossed my mind. A few years ago I was still observing the five second rule and thought a balanced meal meant you bought combos to go with your mars bar. Now all I can think about is people breathing on my food and whether tapioca pudding should have a green tint to it.

On the way home we stop at the local Sears which is actually a tiny hole in the wall joint in a strip mall. A boy, in desperate need of a good meal and a belt, asks us if we need help and we tell him no, we know exactly what we want. Having done several hours of research I already know which TV is best to replace the one that’s dying a slow death in our living room. Again it strikes me that a few years ago I’d have just gone into the store and picked the TV that was the prettiest or the biggest. Now I do research. I check consumer reports and look for recalls. On the way out the kid, who is probably the same age as me but seems younger because of his rocker T-shirt and pants that nearly fall off when he gets our TV off the shelf, calls me ma’am. I have a revelation.

I’m…..old.

Grey hair, thick glasses, worrying about nutrition and doing research. And now, I’m a ‘ma’am’. I don’t even understand half the slang the kids use now. Old, old, old. I think I may be having a quarter life crisis. I suddenly have the urge to throw out all my clothes and buy a bunch of latex corsets, drink a red bull and get something pierced. When did I stop being ‘cool’, when did I become a ‘ma’am’?

I think I may get a tattoo. Or possibly a walker. I haven’t decided yet. Good luck and blessings, Prana

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