Caution: Crone on the Move

I was feeling good, clad in my jeans, favorite T-shirt and black Birkenstocks. Enter the Fingerprinting Process mandatory for my new job. I left, feeling like I wore a sign that said, “Caution, Old Crone.”

     In my paperwork, I had listed my hair color as “Silver.” The fingerprint technician informed me that that was not an option. I had to pick between White or Gray. What?! I chose White. Gray is beyond depressing.

     Then, he was having difficulty capturing my fingerprints on the Live Scan machine. I laughed and said, “I guess the machine just doesn’t like me.” He flatly replied, “You have dry skin.”

Great. So, as I exit, I am a White-Haired old woman with dry skin. I no longer feel energized, but instead, like a shriveled, elderly, nobody. Why didn’t they just give me a walker and say, “Might as well practice with this, because you’ll eventually need it.”

     I detest this. I am 62. It is not 1954 where the life expectancy is like 70. (I’m just making that number up) I do yoga daily, damnit! My long, silver hair is fabulous and my fingers all work, I have no aches and pains. I know I am not “young” but society is placing me in a box and I do not like it, not one bit!

     I jumped out of that box, played The Rolling Stones on the way home and sang my heart out. By the time I got home, I thought, “No one controls Mary McKnight.” I felt fabulous again. Ahh…Society will not define what I am capable of doing, or how I look, act or feel.

     I am tired of receiving ads on my social media for Retirement Homes, Arthritis cream, sensible shoes and the like. I don’t think about how I “should” act, dress, feel, I just do whatever the hell I want, and will continue to do so.

      I do not make “sounds” when I get up, when I sit down, and I do not plan on making sounds. Yes, yes, I am aging. I don’t know if it’s “fiercely” or “gracefully,” it’s just “me.” Yes, I’m ticked off! Do not tell me to calm down! I must vent or I will implode. I did that implosion thing for many years to keep others comfortable. Those days, are over!

      Do you feel old? What does “old” mean? Why must we label everything? Dear god, I ask a lot of questions. Comment below on how you feel about all this, please. Thank you for reading. Rant over. Time for yoga.