Have I become that old lady who doesn’t know that dressing like a teenager does not make her look younger? You know, the ones that wandered around downtown that we all giggled at. Hair dye was too bright, leggings a different pattern than her coat, sandals in winter.

I was so concerned about being the lady with wobbly lipstick that I got my lips outlined in a permanent tattoo. I did that once. I am guessing that lips have the most nerves in the body than anywhere else. Probably why kissing is so much fun. What is not fun is injections into the lip line. And of course, once you start you are as committed as a captain on a sinking ship. There is no hopping overboard, there is just sinking in remorse and self-loathing. I did it all. One and done. Ha! I was aghast to discover this has to be “refreshed” over the years. Not! I also had eye liner applied to both my upper and lower lids. Yup. Second most nerve infested area of the body. YIKES. The pain was excruciating, even with topical Novocain. But what are you going to do, quit at one lid?

When it comes to hair I decided after 60 and with less salt-n-pepper and mostly salt I would dye my hair blue, then purple and maybe next crimson. The place I buy my color rinse is staffed with very hip multi-hair-hued young people. I always feel as if they are encouraging me to spread my old baggy wings. But maybe I am not picking up on the sarcasm. After all, “Wow! That is some color on you!” Is not quite the same as, “That color is perfect for you.”

The same goes with clothes. I was recently buying summer clothes for a warm destination trip, should we ever be allowed to roam free again post-pandemic. I walk the beaches and love to sail etc. All those are activities that I do in shorts. However, I noticed the last time I tried on shorts there was a great swath of inner thigh skin akin to theater festooning billowing below the fabric edge. And beneath my once firm butt was a new horizontal swag of skin crepe paper. So very uncool.

I can’t move around in Bermuda shorts down to my knees and shorts that are ballooning with huge full legs are as useless as straight skirts for sports. I need to “Move it, move it, move it.” But even I would have to hold back tears of laughter at anyone exposing so much, um, over used skin.

For swimming I have solved the problem by wearing a UV ray one-piece jumpsuit that looks like a lightening blue Lycra Wonder Woman suit…if Wonder Women had been eating Wonder Bread for a year while sequestered inside her invisible jet.

But for outdoor activities in the heat I am left with shorts that are too short. I may have to resort to the big picture hat and huge dark sunglasses. That look that says: if you can’t see me, I can’t see you. This all while you are seeing something you can’t unsee. I will apologize for any pain I have inflicted, sort of.

The thing of it is, there is going to be an epidemic of saggy baggy Gramma and Grampa skin out on parade. And since we are the ones getting our COVID shots first, the world is going to see lots and lots of us. So be forewarned. We know we look ridiculous. We know we are unappealing. Yes, we know we are not teenagers any longer. We just don’t care. So be glad I am not a member of a nudist colony!

Sally Franz and her third husband live on the Olympic Peninsula. She has two daughters, a stepson, and three grandchildren. Sally is the author of several humor books including Scrambled Leggs: A Snarky Tale of Hospital Hooey and The Baby Boomer’s Guide to Menopause

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