Also see A Female Perspective on Aging; Growing Older; For Women Only, Humor For Women Only, and Pretty is as Pretty Does.



Quotes


When I'm an Old Lady

(Joanne Bailey Baxter, copyright © 1991)

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my kids,
and make them so happy, just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they've provided,
returning each deed. Oh, they'll be so excited.
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)

I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
and bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets, and oh, how they'll shout.
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)

When they're on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
and when that is done I'll hide under the bed.
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)

When they cook dinner and call me to meals,
I'll not eat my green beans or salads congealed.
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
and when they get angry, run fast as I'm able.
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)

I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels I'll click,
I'll cross both my eyes to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud until the end of the day.
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)

And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
and thank God in prayer and then close my eyes,
and my kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
and say with a groan. "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!"
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)


When I'm a Little Old Lady

   ___
  (___) When I'm a little old lady
  /` `\ Then I'll live with my children
 / /"\ \ and bring them great joy.
\_/o o\_/ To repay all I've had
  ( _ ) from each girl and boy
  `\ /` I shall draw on the walls
 /\\V//\ and scuff up the floor;
/ /_ _\ \ Run in and out
\ \___/ / without closing the door.
 \/===\/ I'll hide frogs in the pantry,
  || || socks under my bed.
  || || Whenever they scold me,
 ||___|| I'll hang my head.
 |_____| I'll run and I'll romp,
   ||| always fritter away
  / Y \ The time to be spent
  `"`"` doing chores every day.
        I'll pester my children ___
   when they are on the phone. (___)
       As long as they're busy /` `\
    I won't leave them alone. / /"\ \
      Hide candy in closets, \_/o o\_/
            rocks in a drawer, ( _ )
  And never pick up my clothes `\ /`
              from the floor. /\\V//\
      Dash off to the movies / /_ _\ \
        and not wash a dish. \ \___/ /
     I'll plead for allowance \/===\/
              whenever I wish. || ||
    I'll stuff up the plumbing || ||
        and deluge the floor. ||___||
As soon as they've mopped it, |_____|
       I'll flood it some more. |||
         When they correct me, / Y \
        I'll lie down and cry, `"'"`
     ___ Kicking and screaming,
    (___) not a tear in my eye.
    /` `\ I'll take all their pencils
   / /"\ \ and flashlights, and then
  \_/o o\_/ When they buy new ones,
    ( _ ) I'll take them again.
    `\ /` I'll spill glasses of milk
   /\\V//\ to complete every meal,
  / /_ _\ \ Eat my banana and
  \ \___/ / just drop the peel.
   \/===\/ Put toys on the table,
    || || spill jam on the floor,
    || || I'll break lots of dishes
   ||___|| as though I were four.
   |_____| What fun I shall have,
     ||| what joy it will be to
    / Y \ Live with my children...
    `"`"` the way they lived with me!

When I'm an Old Lady

(Mary Ann Hopkins)

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
and make his life happy and filled with such fun.
I want to pay back all the joy he's provided,
returning each deed. Oh, he'll be so excited.
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll write on the wall with red, white, and blue;
and bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, he will shout.
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When he's on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, he'll snap his fingers and then shake his head,
and when he is done I'll hide under the bed.
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When my son's wife cooks dinner and calls me to meals,
I'll not eat my green beans or salads congealed.
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
and when she gets angry, run fast as I'm able.
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll sit close to the TV, thru the channels I'll click.
I'll cross both my eyes to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
and play in the mud until the end of the day.
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.

And later, in bed, I'll lie back and sigh,
and thank God in prayer and then close my eyes;
and my son will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
and say with a groan, "she's so sweet when she's sleeping."
. . . when I'm an old lady and live with my son.


The Phenomenal Woman

(Maya Angelou)

When I was in my younger days,
I weighed a few pounds less,
I needn't hold my tummy in
to wear a belted dress.

But now that I am older,
I've set my body free;
There's the comfort of elastic
Where once my waist would be.

Inventor of those high-heeled shoes
My feet have not forgiven;
I have to wear a nine now,
But used to wear a seven.

And how about those pantyhose--
They're sized by weight, you see,
So how come when I put them on
The crotch is at my knee?

I need to wear these glasses
As the print's been getting smaller;
And it wasn't very long ago
I know that I was taller.

Though my hair has turned to gray
and my skin no longer fits,
On the inside, I'm the same old me,
It's the outside's changed a bit.


Signs of Menopause


Menopause Jewelry

My husband, being unhappy with my mood swings, bought me a mood ring so he would be able to monitor my moods.
We've discovered that when I'm in a good mood, it turns green. When I'm in a bad mood, it leaves a big red mark on his forehead.
Maybe next time he'll buy me a diamond . . .


Mid-life Blues

Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.

In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag.

The good news about mid-life is that the glass is still half-full, the bad news is that it won't be long before your teeth are floating in it.

Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear end without turning around.

Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and realize that it is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless on film.

In mid-life you are still a HOT babe, but now it comes in flashes.

Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream "Listen honey, even the Roman Empire fell, and those will, too!"

Mid-life is when you go to the doctor and you realize you are now so old, you have to pay someone to look at you naked.

Mid-life brings with it the wisdom to know that life throws us curves and you're sitting on your biggest ones.

Mid-life is when you start to repeat yourself and your chins follow suit.

Mid-life is when you realize that if you were a dog, you'd need a control top flea collar.

Mid-life is when you look at your know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenage and think: "For this I have stretch marks??"

Mid-life is when you bounce (a lot), but you don't bounce back. (It's more like Splat!)

In mid-life your memory starts to go. In fact, the only thing you can still retain is water.

Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes Legs By Rand McNally . . . more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of Wisconsin.

Mid-life means that you become more reflective. You start pondering the 'big' questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?

But, mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important. We realize that breasts sag, hips expand, and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile.

Would any of you trade the knowledge you have now for the body you had back then? Maybe our bodies have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired . . . anyway that's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!


What I want in a man, original list:

  1. Handsome
  2. Charming
  3. Financially successful
  4. A caring listener
  5. Witty
  6. In good shape
  7. Dresses with style
  8. Appreciates finer things
  9. Full of thoughtful surprises
  10. An imaginative, romantic lover

What I want in a man, revised list (age 32):

  1. Nice looking (prefer hair on his head)
  2. Opens car doors, holds chairs
  3. Has enough money for a nice dinner
  4. Listens more than talks
  5. Laughs at my jokes
  6. Carries bags of groceries with ease
  7. Owns at least one tie
  8. Appreciates a good home-cooked meal
  9. Remembers birthdays and anniversaries
  10. Seeks romance at least once a week

What I want in a man, revised list (age 42):

  1. Not too ugly (bald head okay)
  2. Doesn't drive off until I'm in the car
  3. Works steady--splurges on dinner out occasionally
  4. Nods head when I'm talking
  5. Usually remembers punch lines of jokes
  6. Is in good enough shape to rearrange the furniture
  7. Wears a shirt that covers his stomach
  8. Knows not to buy champagne with screw-top lids
  9. Remembers to put the toilet seat down
  10. Shaves most weekends

What I want in a man, revised list (age 52):

  1. Keeps hair in nose and ears trimmed
  2. Doesn't belch or scratch in public
  3. Doesn't borrow money too often
  4. Doesn't nod off to sleep when I'm venting
  5. Doesn't retell the same joke too many times
  6. Is in good enough shape to get off couch on weekends
  7. Usually wears matching socks and fresh underwear
  8. Appreciates a good TV dinner
  9. Remembers your name on occasion
  10. Shaves some weekends

What I want in a man, revised list (age 62):

  1. Doesn't scare small children
  2. Remembers where bathroom is
  3. Doesn't require much money for upkeep
  4. Only snores lightly when asleep
  5. Remembers why he's laughing
  6. Is in good enough shape to stand up by himself
  7. Usually wears some clothes
  8. Likes soft foods
  9. Remembers where he left his teeth
  10. Remembers that it's the weekend

What I want in a man, revised list (age 72):

  1. Breathing
  2. Doesn't miss the toilet

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

My thighs were snatched from me during the night of March 22nd. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing? Whose thighs were these? What happened to mine?
I spent that entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at pools and beaches, anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became obsessed. I had nightmares filled with cellulite. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.
Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My buns were next. I knew it was the same gang because they took pains to match my new derrière--although badly attached at least 3 inches lower than the original--to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier. Now my rear complimented my legs lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was two years later when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair, I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced, cleverly and fiendishly, a section at a time.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age creeps up, unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity. No. I was being attacked, repeatedly and without warning.
One spring, my attention was riveted to female upper arms. I studied them from every angle, being careful not to raise mine in public or flatten them too tightly against my body. In private I held them straight out and did endless circles that would have tightened my real arms but did nothing for these silly putty caricatures. In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my arms and my T-shirts. What could they do to me next?
In short order, my boobs could hold a pencil. My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now reminded me of.
That's why I've decided to tell my story. I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of America, wake up and smell the coffee! That isn't really 'plastic' those surgeons are using. You know where they're getting those replacement parts, don't you?
The next time you suspect someone has had a face 'lifted', look again. Was it lifted from you? Check out those tummy tucks and raised buttocks. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star? I think I finally may have found my thighs. I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them.


New Barbie

Introducing the new, improved MIDLIFE BARBIE: Now at long last, here are some NEW Barbie dolls to coincide with her and OUR aging gracefully. These are a bit more realistic . . .


Old Lady in the Mirror

A very weird thing has happened. A strange old lady has moved into my house. I have no idea where she came from, or how she got in. I certainly did not invite her. All I know is that one day she wasn't there, and the next day, she was.

She is a clever old lady, and manages to keep out of sight for the most part, but whenever I pass a mirror, I catch a glimpse of her. And whenever I look in the mirror to check my appearance, there she is hogging the whole thing, completely obliterating my gorgeous face and body. This is very rude. I have tried screaming at her, but she just screams back.

If she insists on hanging around, the least she could do is offer to pay part of the rent, but no. Every once in a while, I find a dollar bill stuck in a coat pocket, or some loose change under a sofa cushion, but it is not nearly enough.

I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think she is stealing money from me. I go to the ATM and withdraw $100, and a few days later it's all gone. I certainly don't spend money THAT fast, so I can only conclude that the money is to buy wrinkle cream. She needs it. And money isn't the only thing I think she is stealing. Food seems to disappear at an alarming rate--especially the good stuff like ice cream, cookies, and candy. I can't seem to keep that stuff in the house anymore. She must have a real sweet tooth, but she'd better watch it, because she is really packing on the pounds. I suspect she realizes this, and to make herself feel better, she is tampering with my scale to make me think I am putting on weight, too.

For an old lady, she is quite childish. She likes to play nasty games, like going into my closets when I'm not home and altering my clothes so they don't fit. And she messes with my files and papers so I can't find anything. This is particularly annoying since I am extremely neat and organized. She also fiddles with my VCR so it does not record what I have carefully and correctly programmed.

She has found other imaginative ways to annoy me. She gets into my mail, newspapers, and magazines before I do, and blurs the print so I can't read it. And she has done something really sinister to the volume controls on my TV, radio and telephone. Now, all I hear are mumbles and whispers.

She has done other things--like make my stairs steeper, my vacuum cleaner heavier and all my knobs and faucets harder to turn. She even made my bed higher so that getting into and out of it is a real challenge. Lately, she has been fooling with my groceries before I put them away, applying glue to the lids, making it almost impossible for me to open the jars. Is this any way to repay my hospitality?

She has taken the fun out of shopping for clothes. When I try something on, she stands in front of the mirror and monopolizes it. She looks totally ridiculous in some of those outfits, plus, she keeps me from seeing how great they look on me.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any meaner, she proved me wrong. She came along when I went to get my picture taken for my driver's license, and just as the camera shutter clicked, she jumped in front of me! No one is going to believe that the picture of that old lady is me.


Answer to the War in Afghanistan

Take all American women who are in menopause, train us for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks, moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna. Drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of Afghanistan, and let us do what comes naturally.

Think about it. Our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make even armed men in turbans tremble.

We've had our children, we would gladly suffer or die to protect them and their future. We'd like to get away from our husbands, if they haven't left already. And for those of us who are single, the prospect of finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely as being struck by lightning. We have nothing to lose.

We've survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet, and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across America and never lost a pound. We can easily survive months in the hostile terrain of Afghanistan with no food at all!

We've spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware stores, or sporting events . . . finding bin Laden in some cave will be no problem.

Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new government? Oh, please . . . we've planned the seating arrangements for in-laws and extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years, trust me, we understand tribal warfare.

Between us, we've divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources. We know how to find that money and we know how to seize it . . . with or without the government's help!

Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we crawl like ants with hot-flashes over their godforsaken terrain.

I'm going to write my Congresswoman. You should, too!


Don't Mess With Mature Ladies

A mature (over 50) lady gets pulled over for speeding...
Older Woman: Is there a problem, Officer?
Officer: Ma'am, you were speeding.
Older Woman: Oh, I see.
Officer: Can I see your license please?
Older Woman: I'd give it to you but I don't have one.
Officer: Don't have one?
Older Woman: Lost it, 4 years ago for drunk driving.
Officer: I see...Can I see your vehicle registration papers please.
Older Woman: I can't do that.
Officer: Why not?
Older Woman: I stole this car.
Officer: Stole it?
Older Woman: Yes, and I killed and hacked up the owner.
Officer: You what?
Older Woman: His body parts are in plastic bags in the trunk if you want to see.
The Officer looks at the woman and slowly backs away to his car and calls for back up.
Within minutes 5 police cars circle the car. A senior officer slowly approaches the car, clasping his half drawn gun.
Officer 2: Ma'am, could you step out of your vehicle please!
The woman steps out of her vehicle.
Older woman: Is there a problem sir?
Officer 2: One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner.
Older Woman: Murdered the owner?
Officer 2: Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please.
The woman opens the trunk, revealing nothing but an empty trunk.
Officer 2: Is this your car, ma'am?
Older Woman: Yes, here are the registration papers.
The officer is quite stunned.
Officer 2: One of my officers claims that you do not have a driving license.
The woman digs into her handbag and pulls out a clutch purse and hands it to the officer.
The officer examines the license. He looks quite puzzled.
Officer 2: Thank you ma'am, one of my officers told me you didn't have a license, that you stole this car, and that you murdered and hacked up the owner.
Older Woman: Bet the liar told you I was speeding, too.


Answer to riddle at top of page: You can negotiate with a terrorist.