The Truly Rich Lady's Musings on Getting Old (Not That She's Anywhere Near That)
I, the Truly Rich Lady, am not afraid of getting old. In fact, I am looking forward to the (still far off) days when I am entitled to free parking, preferential service at banks, and a discount for a double scoop of gelato.
Of course, I, the Truly Rich Lady, have a driver to do the parking, personal access to the managers of banks, and, well, I do not eat sugar at the moment, but you get the point. Getting old is not that bad.
Another perk is I can do and say whatever the hell I want. I can wear a leopard-print playsuit with evening jewels, wrap my head in a purple turban, and then tell my New Money Neighbor that her experimental garden is as ugly as a chicken butt.
She can’t complain because I am protected by the rickety shield of old age!
What else is good? Let’s see... Grandkids, but this depends on whether the munchkins are cute and well-behaved… Waking up early and then going back to sleep because there’s nothing on the agenda… Watching Netflix on my ultra HD television all day… Organizing and re-organizing my shoe collection for weeks… And pretending to be under the weather when I want to get out of a boring engagement. “So sorry Millecent—*cough, cough*—I cannot go to our weekly Scrabble game today.”
All these are in the hopes of never having to wake up in the morning and realizing that I can’t get of bed because my neck is stuck, as well as never having to wake up in the morning and realizing that there are pitchforks outside my windows, because I have pissed off so many people in my wild youth.
These are the excellent bits, but there is also a dark cloud that approaches. In my sunset days, I imagine waking up will require a 10-minute survey of the things that are not functioning properly: Is my right eye twitching extra fast today? Is that a new creak I hear from my knees? And why does my skin look like Charlize Theron as Aileen
They say we start dying as soon as we pop out of mom. I say, “Can we live a life in full for 50, 60, or even 70 years before we even think of turning into dust, please?” But okay, we have to be realists (or pessimists). All roads end.
It is a given that Truly Rich People have planned well so that they never have to worry about where the money will come from when they slow down. What they may have neglected to do (because they are busy making coin) is to take care of the body. I mean, what good is all that gold when your best accessory is an oxygen tank?
The younger generation (me!) know to prioritize health or, in Truly Rich terms, invest in the wellness of the body, because—what’s that?—health is… wealth! In fact, my present hobby is irritating my doctors with very regular visits. Yes, just good
I know, too, to clean up my act. Instead of bellinis for brunch, I have this thing called exercise. Instead of cake, I have a slice of meditation.
That takes care of my body, but I should also do something good for my soul. More and more, I find myself
All these are in the hopes of never having to wake up in the morning and realizing that I can’t get of bed because my neck is stuck, as well as never having to wake up in the morning and realizing that there are pitchforks outside my windows, because I have pissed off so many people in my wild youth.
Okay, I have this plan. Do the above and also apply a cosmetic change. I am not talking about another life-changing visit to Manila’s
Got this tip from a songbird: Let’s erase “birthday” from our vocabulary. Let’s refer to this annual day of growth as an “anniversary.” That way there is less pressure about inching closer and closer to death. Old age sounds festive. It is still a very long party.
