The Old Lady Freshmen

Today after church I was talking with two of my favorite people, Sara and her mother Mary.  Sara and I are about the same age and so you can guess her mother is about twenty years older than us.  Sara complimented me on my silver flat shoes I was wearing today.  They are one of the less orthopedic pairs I wear; even my teenage daughter likes them.  As I was commenting on her cute shoes, which she had actually taken from her teenage daughter’s closet her mother got in on the conversation.

“You are lucky you can still wear cute shoes,” Mary said.  Both Sara and I complimented her on her attractive black pumps.  “I’m all for comfortable shoes,” I replied.  “Of course you are, since you two are in the freshman class of being old ladies.”  No she didn’t.  Did Mary just call us “old ladies?”

“Yes, and I am a sophomore,” she added.  In her math I guess you are a junior in your nineties and a senior has got to be at least a hundred and five.  I told Mary that she was hazing us freshmen as she got in her car and drove away.  The good thing is that sophomores can still drive their own cars.

It is one thing for a small child to think of me as an old lady, but for an actual senior citizen to put me in their ranks is sobering.  I know I like to do a lot of old lady pastimes, like bridge, mah jongg, needlepoint and ladies lunch out, but I know much younger people than me that also likes those things.  I also like white water rafting, mountain hiking and yoga.

So when are we old?  For now I am going to do everything possible to fail out of Mary’s school where I am a freshman.  I am also taking Sara with me.  I think we easily fall back solidly into middle age where we clearly belong.  I have no problem owning my actual age of fifty-two, but I plan on being around another thirty-five or forty years.  Call me an old lady in another twenty-five years when I have earned the title.  I am going to continue wearing more orthopedic shoes than fashion ones so that my feet can last for forty more years.