Strange that I should remember having small bazookas. Mind you, they weren't anything to put on Page 3, and looked like a cushion stuffed in a too small pillowcase if I ever tried on a shirred top. But they were kind of nice to have, you know? Small means you don't have to worry about buttons popping open and stuff. Getting older means that I am getting larger. Rounder everwhere. Bit like a cushion all over. And instead of looking for a 34B I have to ask if the bra shop has a 38 long. gawd. As for the pretty stuff, well wouldn't the wrinkles look an absolute treat in one of them - all bows and flowers, and the bits inside need ironing..........(sigh)
Hair is another amazing thing about getting older. The hair on me head is kind of the same but it is a strange sort of greyish colour now. It used to be really dark with lots of red in it, and was quite ok. I thought it was, anyway. And I could actually spend time on 'doing' my hair. Now? Try ten minutes and my elbows and shoulders ache so much I have to quit. Half a head is not better than none! And the other hair? Well some you win some you lose. You probably don't know (unless you too are getting older), but the underarm hair sort of ....goes away? Yippee!!! But the drawback is that your - ssssh - pube-lic hairs do too! (laughter offstage). Yeah, they just ... go away and don't come back ... um... no, I dunno why. Once I had a choice of shaving, or depiliatory creams or bleaching or waxing my legs. Now I have the same choice, but for my chin and upper lip! Hey! I bet I know where the pube-lic hairs go!
Another bonus of being young is being able to laugh or sneeze or cough without going into a panic. You heard me - a complete panic. The first thing on your shopping list is always, but always Tena Lady Pants Liners. Oh the shame.
Teeth? We really need to discuss teething. I'm all for yanking out teeth at their first appearance and installing false ones. That way we would go through life without a care, especially if we used that stuff you superglue your fangs into your mouth with. What's it called? Damned can't remember. My teeth just don't want to be with me any more, they keep breaking and I have this stubborn dentist who will simply not yank 'em out and give me falsies. Swine. Think of the smiley smile I could give with falsies! Oh I don't want whitey whites (what? no, I am not talking about underwear) - I would just like teeth that stay there when you need to have a good crunching chew on something - like a marshmallow fr'instance. And ones that when you looked at them didn't remind you that it is illegal to shoot animals for ivory nowadays.
Now. Facelifts. See, I had this - well I still have it - mole. It was tucked nicely away under my chin where you didn't see it. Now it is sort of inches down from where it was, and everyone remarks "what's that on your neck?" aaaagh! It's a mole! Shut up! Bitch! Gravity sucks, and it is sucking parts of me southward at an alarming rate. So. No I won't have a facelift. Firstly I am scared to death and secondly I wouldn't worry about firstly if I was rich enough to have one! I did think about using sticky tape, cause once upon a time models used to use it for all sorts of nips and tweaks. You know, stick a bit on face and up into your hair to improve the sag? With the amount of southward travel I have experienced, however, I believe it would require superbond duct tape. And I think you might just notice bits of it here and there........
The really really sad thing about getting older is all the young people around me. Oh they aren't sad, don't get that twisted around. It is me that is sad! I look at the pretty young clothes and shoes, and sigh. You bet I could buy stuff and wear it and holy moly gee whiz wouldn't I look a bloody sight! The latest thing I am totally taken with is the way the manicures are done, with pretty flowers and all sorts on the fingernails and toenails. I can't even SEE my toenails. But I digress. How jubilant would I be to have one of those manicures! And how absolutely dim would I look with pretty daisies on my nails, that is if you could find them amongst all the age spots ha!
There are things I haven't mentioned though. Getting older means that I could wear the young gear and have my nails poshed up - and the young ones would just think I was a bit eccentric! After all, I am an older person, and we are entitled to be just that bit dotty now and again!
And being this age means that even YOUNG fellas will gladly help me out with heavy shopping, for example, and with a smile! Oh! they even offer to help! How's that?
I can talk to anyone and they will answer me, because it is not polite to be rude to your elders! Well, mostly!
And the greatest thing of all? I have almost 64 years of life experience and hopefully the wisdom to put that experience into words to help the younger ones when they have trials of their own. And I can, usually without reservation, just love the hell out of all the young ones around me. And rejoice in their triumphs, cry with them when they are sad, hug their babies (even if by internet) and pass on any knowledge I happen to have if they need me to.
Sometimes there are amazing things about getting older. Even if you can't see your toenails.