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Humor February 2017

Agelessly Yours

Look Again, Lady

By Karen White-Walker

It’s good not to push when you’re aware that you have aching knees when you walk, or throbbing toes when you struggle to wear sexy dress shoes in the city, as if anybody in Times Square, “the crosswalk of the world,” would even notice?

Remind me to wear glasses to bed and it wouldn’t hurt to toss in earplugs if I can avoid what happened the other morning at 2:15 a.m.

Little Abby, my West Highland terrier (think the TV Caesar dog food commercial) never sees that unearthly hour of the morning because I’ve warned her that if she doesn’t sleep throughout the night, no more treats or “bye bye car.” She comprehends everything, which is more than I do, and she’s more lovable and obedient, which is more than I am.

Well, the other morning she obviously didn’t believe my idle threats because she started barking and scratching at the backdoor — hence those earplugs sure would have come in handy. She’s really too sweet to be ignored but, obviously, I must not seem as adorable to her for her not to have listened to me. I would be getting up at 5:30 a.m. to catch an early morning train to New York City and, since it promised to be a hectic day, I needed all the sleep I could muster, which in the end isn’t always enough, or is it too much? Why is it that as we age we require less sleep? Is it because we don’t work as hard? Are you kidding?! I’m working harder now than when I was younger and that makes me think that back in the day, I must have been one lazy lug.

I got up to let Abby out and the clock said 5:10 a.m. What the heck, I thought to myself, with an extra 20 minutes I won’t have to rush. It’s good not to push when you’re aware that you have aching knees when you walk, or throbbing toes when you struggle to wear sexy dress shoes in the city, as if anybody in Times Square, “the crosswalk of the world,” would even notice? And the more wrinkles I discover as I age the more “work” I must do in front of the mirror. Who doesn’t yearn for that natural look and the fly-away-free hair? But let’s face it, without a stroke of lipstick and blush on your naked face, you risk those looking at you to suffer a different kind of stroke. Try having that on your conscience! Yes, a nice leisurely early morning would be a wise prelude to facing a robust, vibrant city.

It’s almost a giddy and so grateful feeling to not as yet require a walk-in shower, so I just flung my NYC-bound feet over the tub and allowed the hot shower to sooth away a little pain here, a not-so-little pain there. I shampooed my blonde hair, low-lighted with gray streaks and presto! It was time for that miracle makeup makeover. I then shuffled into the kitchen but was abruptly taken aback. I looked, squinted and strained. Oh no! I couldn’t believe my tired eyes. I hunted for my glasses, put them on, took them off, and still refused to believe it. I thought I had gotten up at 5:10 a.m., so why did all the clocks say 2:45 a.m.? I’ll tell you why, because it WAS 2:45 a.m. and I had read them wrong – first time ever!

From the neck up I was all set to go stepping out, except there was nowhere to go except back to bed — wet hair and all. I fell into a restless sleep and scrutinized the alarm clock when it rang at 5:30 a.m. It’s like at that very moment I would forever after be double-checking myself. Hey, if you can’t sometimes believe in yourself, how can you believe in THINGS?

Where I had slept on one side, the hair was plastered to my head, while the front and top part was sticking up straight like a tomahawk “do.” Back to the good old shower to dry out my already dried-up skin, and to wash the mascara that was smudged clear down to the tip of my nose.

It wasn’t even 6 a.m., and even though it felt like I already had put in a full day’s work, I was off to NYC. Not bad for a dame who’s lookin’ at over 70 – or am I? After looking at the clocks all wrong, I better get out that old birth certificate and double-check that date when I was born. If I’m older or younger than I thought, I’m still the same old me with the same sagging skin and same wonder that I hold for this crazy world. The heck with that old birth certificate!

The truth? I can't remember where the heck I put it.

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