LOOKING FOR LOVE… IN ALL THE WRONG UNDERPANTS
Have you ever felt invisible to the society you live in?
I think I’m starting to.
Sure, there are people of my age and gender represented in the media but, unlike them, I’m ready to race to life’s finish line, not cruise the wine regions in a convertible with my beige-clad husband, our matching grey hairdo’s unflappable in the breeze as we smile at the comfort of our incontinence pads.
Have you ever wondered if you’ve done something wrong that has caused you to be a misfit in this stereotype? Do you ever wonder if you’ve passed your relevancy use by date?
For some women this question can arise when the kids have left the nest and ‘mum’ notices her husband has more hair in his ears than on his head and emits more grunts on the toilet than exchanged words with her.
For other women this dawning can arise the first time a waiter inadvertently calls you mister, the day you determine you haven’t enough Super to buy a budgie, or the evening you get in a taxi and the vacant sign stays up. You can be a good friend, great mum, recycle, work hard, volunteer or miraculously revive road kill …and yet still feel like you’re the loser in the game of life.
Is it too late to try and work life out when you’re already half way through it?
Do you ever wish you could start life all over again with the wisdom you’ve gleaned since birth? Sometimes I do. But then I realise I know very little. Even worse is the realisation that none of my peers know anything either.
Despite our age, we’re all bloody idiots.
The older we get the more we adhere to our narrow minded thoughts, determined to fight to the death for beliefs we only hold because we’re too lazy to change them.
Should the end of the world come, the population would instinctively look to the grown-ups for guidance and leadership. It’s frightening when you realise they’d be looking at us. Fact is when the Y2K was hovering years ago, I prepared for the end of the world by buying one big can of lentils.
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