About a week ago, I got my first piece of mail addressed to me from AARP. The first line of the letter said, “Welcome to the 50’s Club!” The 50’s Club affords me the luxury of prescription drug discounts, savings on eyeglasses and guidance on Medicare among other enticing things. I looked down at my SpongeBob socks and thought, “What else can I get away with now that I’m 50?”
Well, a little internet search revealed that I can now get a 20% discount at Papa Johns pizza. At Burger King AARP members get free coffee and as a matter of fact most fast food places give free coffee to “seniors” which leads me to believe that at some point I’m going to get very tired and need all the free coffee I can get.
If I need to, I can get a free profile on Christian Mingle, Match.com, OurTime and SilverSingles.com. I’ll file that away for future use.
If I need to rent a car, Avis will give me a 30% discount with my AARP membership and all Choice hotels are 10% off. For an added bonus, most marijuana dispensaries have a senior discount and now I know why I see an unusual amount of older folks lined up here locally. Unfortunately, most of the good stuff like special senior menus, free donuts at Dunkin Donuts and senior-only shopping won’t happen until I’m 55.
I do take some offense to the term “senior.” It alludes to being mature. I am in no way mature except for maybe the skin on my neck and knees. Mentally, on average I’m about 15. I’m insecure about my body, care way too much about what other people think of me and I laugh at all the wrong things.
There is a battle going on right now with my body and mind that some days presents itself in weird ways. For example, the other day, I considered getting one of those necklaces that you connect to your glasses so you can wear them around your neck. That lasted about ten minutes before my inner 15-year-old jumped in and said “No way, that’s gross.” No offense to those reading this with that very set-up. It does seem practical.
Mentally my 15-year-old brain still likes to roller skate and lately my 50-year-old body wants to fall down and sprain ankles. My 15-year old self wants to live on peanut butter and jelly while my 50-year-old body is screaming for a fiber supplement and a salad.
If you think about it, 50 years really isn’t that long. It was 30 years ago that I was in high school. I’m still trying to make sense of that time. I do notice that my childhood memories aren’t in vivid color like they used to be. I think it’s because other recent memories have replaced them, like my wedding and the birth of my nephews and niece.
In January I was worried because this was the year I turned 50. I was worried because I was in the second half of my life. This is the part where you get old, sick, and then you die. Slowly as the months moved by, I have become more at ease with the idea of being 50. I can let go of the stuff I can’t make sense of. I can embrace my saggy knees. This isn’t the time where I get sick and die. This is the time where I stop painting my toenails because I don’t care what other people think. This is the time that I remember that getting old is a privilege denied to many and that I should live it up and accept all the free coffee being offered.
Happy Birthday to me.
Cassina Farley can be contacted at cassinaandzachfarley@msn.com