You Know It's Time to Consult Miss Clairol When . . .

So there I was, standing innocently in line at a local store, minding my own business, when I was once again asked an insulting question: "Ma'am, do you qualify for the senior discount?" I'm sure the look on my face spoke volumes. ;)

I've noticed this kind of thing happens when the following trends take place:

A) I've had a bad week.

B) I've endured an arthritis flare-up from Hades.

C) My true roots begin to surface.

D) The clerk is a sweet young thing who pops chewing gum for entertainment.

This week I would have to add: E) All of the above. I tried to comfort myself by pondering that the diaper-clad clerk (okay, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt) was trying to save me money. These days, that counts for quite a bit. On the other hand, I still feel insulted since I'm about ten years shy of the qualification standards for this thoughtful discount.

Since I wasn't prepared to offer a witty reply, I merely said something like: "Gee, I wish." To which the sweet young thing responded . . . "Oh, well, have a nice day."

Right. I've just been called an old person, and now I'm supposed to enjoy the rest of my day. In my defense, I've been fighting a family trend for years. I started going grey in my twenties. I have cousins who gave up dyeing their hair and were totally white-headed by the time they were in their forties. To my credit, I've been successfully keeping this character-building trait a secret for years. Evidently I'm slipping a bit.

So . . . I went to another store and bought a nice box of hair accentuation. I promptly used it the next day, and my husband remarked that it was good to see that I was feeling better. Ah. So maybe I was looking a bit gray around the gills this past week. I blame the weather. A lot. I suffer from a form of rheumatoid arthritis and when the barometric pressure changes, I become a great weather forecaster. This past week has been most impressive with regard to pressurization. The other day I felt like I was a walking canker sore; every part of my body hurt. And that's the day I was asked if I qualified for special privileges. 

Two weeks ago I received an invitation to join the AARP. Now if this stood for: Arty Articulate Really Cool Person, I would've been excited. (I know, then it would be the AARCP) Instead it means: Any Airhead can Ridicule this Person. To my credit, I am reaching a landmark birthday this year. The kind that is celebrated with black balloons, etc. That does not mean I'm ready for nursing home mode!

So . . . to counter all of this I am going to start an exercise program, keep my hair looking as it should at this age, and wear a badge that says: "Ask stupid questions at your own risk!" I will also attempt to keep my sense of humor intact, since it's looking like that will be the best defense of all.