Recently, I overheard a woman say she was too old to have long hair.
“At a certain age,” the woman declared, “ponytails and braids just start to look foolish.”
As I pondered her statement, I was reminded of the time my grandmother said that old women shouldn’t wear sleeveless tops. (Conversely, my other grandmother wore pink baseball caps with matching pink shoelaces well into her 60s.)
This brought a question to mind: when is someone officially old? Is a 76 year old woman who bicycles 3 miles a day, everyday, old? Or is it the woman who is also 76 but uses a walker and reeks of White Diamonds perfume?
I lost sleep. I paced the floors. I forgot several items on my shopping list because I kept repeating the thought, “When is old, old?” I studied everyone. I took notes. I visited random nursing homes and stuck my head into the rooms before…
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