I like to keep my expectations low; that way, more often than not, I’m pleasantly surprised. Like my lifelong goals… I set myself up for success. So far I’ve decided that when I grow up I want be an old woman.
Not just any old woman. I want to be an old woman that cusses. Everyone loves an old woman that cusses. It’s just so unexpected. I want to wear aprons and tell people to, “Go to hell.” I don’t go around telling random people that now because they’d beat me up, but no one would beat up an old woman.
Think about it: If we were arguing today and I told you to go there, you’d be offended. You might even talk about me behind my back, and you certainly wouldn’t invite me over soon. But, if I were a gray-haired, plump, old woman in an apron and I said, “Go to hell and eat moldy cheese!” You’d think it was hilarious, you’d blog about it, and you couldn’t wait to hang out with me again.
I want to be an old woman that cusses and I want to grow a beard. Maybe not a full-on Dumbledore beard, but enough facial hair to let the world know that I am past the days of grooming and pruning. The only thing more meticulously groomed than the yards in West County St. Louis are the women. I’m not saying that women shouldn’t take pride in their looks or enjoy getting dolled up. I’m just saying that the day will come when I won’t want to be bothered with plucking, trimming, waxing, filing, polishing, coloring, straightening, and tightening. Oh, I know there are women who still maintain their sexiness into their golden years; but I’ll be too busy drinking vodka tonics and cussing!
I want to be the female version of Gru from Despicable Me. I want to laugh at young people (those in their 40’s) when they fall, make fun of the fashions of babies (teenagers,) and still oooh, coo, and spoil the truly young children and infants.
I want to have drawers full of candy for my grandchildren and yet jump out of the closet with a mask on when they least expect it.
I want so take my dentures out and serve them up inside the molded jello for dessert. There will also be fruit in the jello, because that’s the way old ladies like it. I’ll need my dentures back to eat it, however.
I will watch scary movies and throw popcorn at the young lovers. I will talk to my teenaged grandchildren about puberty and sex… because then they will be thinking of me when they are in a precarious situation, and the old lady with a beard jumping out of the closet drooling without her dentures will take even a 17 year old boy out of the ‘mood!’
If a grandchild, or rather anyone, breaks my fine china or crystal, I will laugh, and break another. I would rather it be broken being used by those I love than have it collect dust unseen in a closet. Fine china won’t last forever, and neither will I.
I want my friends and family to be so busy laughing at my expense at my funeral and they will forget to cry.
If all goes as planned, I will be remembered for laughter, love, and eccentricities. Because really, that’s what matters. That and vodka tonics!