You know the phrase, “You go, girl?” Usually it seems to apply to … um … younger generations of women. But not Erin O’Brien of Redondo Beach, California. She’s still flaunting it … at least until someone sees otherwise. But she is wondering, When Did This Happen?
When the first AARP announcement arrived in the mail with my name on it, I thought it must be some kind of mistake. I was still in my forties. Well, my last forty.
My husband had received his card a few years earlier, but when he was born there were only 49 stars in the U.S. flag, as I like to remind him.
He seemed non-plussed about carrying his in his wallet. His logic was that he got the AARP discount when he bought his cell phone, which covered the cost of the AARP membership.
“They know all about you,” he explained smugly. “You’re a member because I’m a member, because I paid for the AARP membership for the discount. You know, for the cell phone.”
“Yes, I know about the discount …”
“You have a card,” he reminded me.
Then it dawned on me that he was right. I went into the kitchen and opened the drawer of the hutch and there it was, where I had hidden it. But I didn’t sign it. I don’t acknowledge it.
That was then; this is now. The other day I was in a health food store when I heard a woman’s voice say, “Ma’m? I can take you at my register.” I didn’t respond immediately because she certainly couldn’t have been talking to me.
I was quietly singing along to the music, the Sixties music the older granola-type people who weren’t at work were also humming along to. “Oh crap! I’m one of them!” I realized. And yes, the cashier was talking to me.
When did this happen?! The last time I was carded I was forty, and even that is becoming a distant memory.
Stopped at a red light on the way home, I caught the gaze of a young man in the truck in the next lane, who quickly averted his eyes. “Bait and switch,” I smiled to myself, realizing how luxurious (and brunette) my hair looked right after a salon visit, and how he was expecting a younger face to match.
Two things crossed my mind: “Thank you, Cathy,” (my hairdresser) and “The girl’s still got it!”