And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

For the longest time I’ve been thinking I have quite a few senior moments and I often tell people I’m 27 (almost 28, eep) going on 80 and I’m absolutely sure this is true.  I love talking about weather, and if my grandmother has taught me anything it’s that no matter how long you’ve lived in Vancouver you will bitch about the rain. I mean you’ve been here for 50 years, you should know that  it rains from October to May.

Allow me to give you a verbal illustration of what I will be like as a senior.

  • Fur. I will be wearing (faux) fur. I got this from all the Italian ladies I saw in Italy last year, they love their fur. But I’m sure their’s was real. I’m not down with getting red paint thrown on me by PETA so I’ll stick with the faux.
  • If I’m still riding the bus (my god I better not still be riding the bus!) you best believe I’ll be the woman budging to the front of the line and passive aggressively staring down the young people that don’t give up their seats.
  • I will discuss my illnesses in detail. If my twitter feed has taught me anything, it’s that I love to discuss the evolution of my current cold, I mean, I’ll probably still be discussing “The Great Cold of 2010” when I’m 80. Think about that and then tell me what you think it’ll be like when I’ve got aches and pains everywhere. And I’m a slight hypochondriac, so that should be delightful as well.
  • You know that great aunt or other old family member that says to you every time that they see you that it could be the last because they’re expecting to die soon? Expect that from good ol’ Aunty Jen.
  • Not only will I discuss my illnesses, but if you mention an illness, I’ll try to one up you. Such as last week when I told my grandmother I had a swollen eye, she tried to tell me her (not) swollen eye was worse. I’m fairly certain this runs in the family and I’ll be doing this by the time I’m 60.
  • Plastic surgery. Oh you best believe that after children there will be areas nipped and tucked. And by that I mean there will be lifting.
  • Drugs. As a teenager and adult I’ve stayed away from the bad stuff, so I figure that in my later years it’ll be time to experiment. With my grandkids. I’ll be the coolest grandmother, obvs.
  • Alzehimers. I don’t deny that I’ll get it one day, I mean I already have the most horrible memory. But I had the worst thought the other day…. you see I always forget my camera, so I’m constantly saying that I’ll just have to remember moments because I don’t have my camera and I think the one on my phone sucks or that I forget to take a picture of the moments to remember.  The other day I thought how sad it’s going to be that I wont remember these things that I’m depending on my memory to remember.  It’s also sad because Kim and I plan on reliving a lot of memories when we’re old and grey in a retirement home together.
  • Advice. I’ll be handing it out to everyone, whether solicited or not.
  • “Back in my day” I already say it at least once a day, I’m sure I’ll up the daily quota to at least 5 times.
  • I’ll insult the music of my kids and grandkids. I may be like my father and proclaim there will never be another band as great as the Beatles or Pink Floyd, but I also like to think that I’ll be telling my kids that they’ll never have a comparison to Lady Gaga and I’ll be rehashing stories about that time Britney stood us up for half an hour.
  • Replacement children, by means of dog(s).
  • I’ll be old and set in my ways, as I am now when it comes to the proposed new lyrics to the Canadian national anthem. I refuse to change, if I’ve been doing something for too long, you can’t change it. Damn, this probably means at some point I’ll refuse to keep up to date with technology and will be using the same old laptop when others have moved on to new technology.
  • I like to think I’d also sit on my front lawn and yell at kids that walk on it, just to be the total cliche, but I have allergies and that could only make me more irritable. Even better if I’m sitting their with a rifle (ha! yeah right)
  • Cougar. I don’t care if I’m married, I’ll be hitting on all the young boys with my cheesy and horrible lines. All purely for the discomfort they’ll feel, I want to see them squirm.

One thought on “And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

  1. Yes! Fur coats as an old italian woman is a must!! When we went to Italian church on Christmas, Deanna and I counted MANY fur coats and decided its the ‘cool’ thing to wear as an old italian lady.

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