. Is my wattle getting bigger? I’m still on my nice, graceful slip down the scale – I haven’t had to worry about food for almost two years now. Things don’t usually tempt me. Mind you, I’m being reasonable. But for some reason I’m not tempted to binge on anything, I’m full without seconds and sometimes without finishing what’s on my plate. In other words, I eat like a normal person, which of course makes me worry that I have a dread disease. But I don’t – my interest in food has simply changed. Now why it couldn’t have happened when I was in my twenties or thirties is another question, but I have a suspicion it has something to do with … gasp … aging. Funny how we don’t like to talk about getting older, getting old. I started out thinking I should come up with a funny euphemism for getting older, but changed my mind. Avoiding the term is admitting it has power over you, and I’m so enjoying turning myself into an eccentric old lady. Then again, I always was an eccentric old lady, just in a younger body. Now I can let my freak flag fly and people will just chuckle and nod and say “old Krissie is at it again.” Hell, maybe they’ll just say “Krissie is at it again.” Coz I am.
As I approach 70 I’m thinking that it might be good to decide who I’m going to be when I grow up. I’d love to be some slim, gorgeous woman who’s active, has long, thick gray hair and beautiful crinkly eyes, one who travels and does yoga etc. etc. I think you need a strong interest in self-care for that, and I’m afraid that’s always been my failing. I know so many women like that – Judith and Cilla and so many others. But that’s not me.
And there’s Granny. The women who retire into grandmother-hood – their life is their family and it’s full of joy and frustration and love. My BFF Sally has done that, but she gives up anything of interest to her, like writing or sewing or travel. In that case the interest in the children trumps the interest in her own life, and that’s good. I love my grandchildren to pieces, but the idea of doing daycare for them is not me. (Love to babysit, just not every day). I still have too much life I have to live.
And then there’s the wispy character from a novel, with bizarre clothes and scarves and strange statements out of nowhere and a naive delight in the world with a strain of deep cynicism beneath it all. She’s usually called something like Great Aunt Minnie in movies and books. That’s my jam. Richie says we live in a Booth cartoon (if you don’t know the cartoons of William Booth go on a search – he’s wonderful!). I say outlandish things (I always have) and float through life with great kindness unless someone is hurting someone, and then the Goddess of Doom emerges.
Yeah, I like that one. It’s like a nice pair of ancient jeans – it fits so welland it doesn’t constrict.
So who do you want to be when you grow up?