Wednesday is back. Mid-week in all her glory. And only one more day until Thanksgiving. Its rainy, cool and the weathermen promise a chilly day for tomorrow. It's one day I won't feel guilty no matter what I eat. I truly mean though to diet come Friday. No really, diet for real. Hmmmm, Billye, seeing is believing, my otherself says.
I went for lunch at the Poloyester Place yesterday, Poloyester Place being the Senior Citzen hall. I hate the phrase Senior Citzen, so I use Poloyester instead. But then I'm not fond of that word either. I guess I just can't be pleased. Anyway my friend Joan and I went to lunch. I told you last week they had cake and the old folks came out in droves. Well, yesterday was Taco salad day and they turn out in mass for that also. Not only do old folks like cake, they like Taco salad too.
I think one reason they have such a good turn out on Taco Salad day besides it really is good. Is they give you so much. Most Seniors like a bargan. Lots of food for one small price. You can't beat that with a stick.
I sat looking at the sea of faces. Well, mostly its a sea of bodies because I don't see their faces well. All the little older folks, some prancing around, mostly ladies. Actually not one of the men pranced. Then there is the ones on walkers and canes. The ladies in Poloyester and tight curled hair. The men big bellies and pants too big in the seat. I want to jump up and say. "Get me out of here,I don't belong with this group. But I don't say that. I sit there and accept my fate that time has hurled me into.
I think, "How in the world did this happen? I'm not an oldie like the rest." The truth is I don't want to be one of them. One of the Oldies. Sitting there waiting for my three dollar lunch piled up on the tray. Smiling at all the others saying, "Isn't this good?" I want to jump up and yell, "Lets untie and pickett this place." Now I am not sure why I would want to pickett it. Its just I don't want to sit there and accept my fate. And we all know what that will turn out to be.
I want to paint up my face, put on my tight jeans and walk to forever. I want to smell the wind that blows in my face. In other words I'm not ready to be old yet. Nor probably will I ever be. Time and age may crease my face. But be for sure it will not crease my soul. My spirit sings inside me. Poems still cry to flow from my finger tips and there is words still that need to be written. So with my short bleached Blond hair I will walk fearlessly into the future. But of course I will probably still go to the Poloyester Place once in awhile. Its good food for only three dollars.
I have walked past my usual turning around place here in Blogland this morning. I stop and look at the unfamilar surroundings. Its sort of like getting older, nothing looks familar. I start back. Talking about getting older has made me a little depressed. But rest assured, I will fight the good fight. I will go down swinging. But I do wonder what I'd look like in Blue tinted hair? Just wondering. But for now, I'm outta here.
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