I was recently introduced to an old lady who asked me point blank a minute after we pecked each other’s cheeks, “how old do I look?”. I freaked out. There you have it. A tricky question. I had a very short runway, and the alternatives flew in my mind, colliding with each other, and the walls.
I could say “late twenties” or even “late thirties”, but that would have required a lengthy explanation of the presence of that old, bold, husband there, the two middle aged sons, and the few grandchildren who were stuffing their faces with some hot dogs or whatever.
“Mid forties”, “early fifties”, would have clashed with the lady’s apparel and hairdo, at the same time, it would have made her husband a felon (statutory rape) and her children bastards. I moved on.
“Late fifties” or “early sixties” would have been close to the truth, but then I would have had to deal with the disappointment, that the bluff was called. I came up with a brilliant idea. “You are a roughly seventy years old woman, who is trying to look thirty, but is failing miserably. You would have failed similarly if you tried to look forty and even fifty”. I thought I’d say, and continue with the punch line: “if you change your hair just a tiny bit, and wear clothes considered fashionable and in line with being around sixty, you would have been slightly more successful”. I thought I’d add: “and also, in context of your family, you simply can’t steal thirty to forty years, so if you insist, go all the way, dump your husband, and lose the kids and the grandchildren. In context, your effort is pathetic”.
Finally, when I ran out of pause time, I finally said: “I would say mid twenties, but I must add, your grandfather (husband) and your siblings (children) and their children (grandchildren) all look fantastically young”. And as a final note I said: “and where do you get these gorgeous clothes in such a small sizes? Are they made to order?”
She smiled, blushed, blew me an air kiss, and said: “you’re too kind”. I am indeed.
Age confusion is not uncommon. Look around you and you’ll see twelve years old girls trying to look thirty, forty year old women who are trying to look twenty. Bold men with bad toupees, white haired men with extensions. An entire industry of hair dyes, gels, colors, implants, Botox, transplants, creams, food additives, scents, cosmetic surgeries to reduce, add, move, extend, make appear or disappear of anything from fat to complete body parts. All to arm people with weapons to use in their efforts to masquerade. To be who they really aren’t, to try and fool others into believing they are older, younger, nicer, tougher, than they really are.
As for myself, I am in my late forties, but due to the lack of hair and a sizable belly, I probably look well into my fifties. If we see each other, I promise not to ask how old I look, I don’t want you to blow a fuse trying to escape with a reasonable answer that won’t portray you as a complete fool. And if you tell me that losing a few pounds would make me look younger, I’d say that losing a few years would have the same effect, so would growing hair, and working out. I may also add, that you may want to consider a master of Tautology career, stating the obvious truth, which I’m sure will be in demand in the coming years.
I think personally that there’s nothing wrong with aging. If anything, the contrary is correct. With age comes experience, and even the natural obvious, you have survived to be older, good for you! You made it all the way here. Way to go! To the young I’d say: with age comes responsibility, try to look older, and people will assume you’re more responsible. Why? Don’t you think it will come anyway? Wait, have a childhood, grow up. Your time will come, like it or not. In addition, keep this in mind: to most people, the pathetic efforts to look younger or older, are usually not successful.
A very old man was once asked: “what’s it like to be 100 years old?”. Without hesitation he said: “the alternative stinks”…
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