http://www.amazon.com Search for Raging Against Aging.
We walk to the cross town bus. We wait on line. We board the crowded bus. Two young girls – Are they in their teens? Are they in their early twenties? What difference does it make? – offer their seats. I look behind me to see whom they are talking to. My husband is standing right behind me. They are getting up. The seats are empty. I am confused. In a split second, the opportunist in me goes for the seats. I manage to whisper a thank-you but for the duration of the ride back to the hotel I keep asking myself: Was it my gray roots? Was it my wrinkled face? Was it my orthopedic shoes?
I look down at my feet. The shoes are cute in an ugly way, I reassure myself. I remember my girlfriend’s son’s wedding. It was a black tie affair for the family members. It was not difficult for me to find a lavender ruched cocktail dress that made my figure look good and brought out my lavender blue eyes. Then I looked down at my feet. I did not know what to do. I had worn cork low heeled sandals to my own daughter’s wedding and that was several years ago. I went online and ordered a pair of cork bottomed flat silver sandals that I knew were too sporty for the event but what choice did I have? My husband put on his black sneakers.
We arrived a few minutes early and I had the opportunity to look at everyone’s feet as they entered the lobby. I found one woman hiding a pair of silver loafers under a royal blue gown. Another woman had a pair of sneakers under her red sequined pants outfit. Why isn’t anyone making silver flat comfortable Mary Janes in a stretchy fabric with a glitzy button? And don’t think I did not beg for something like this when I was at Harry’s. Naot? Finn? Aetrex? Is anyone listening?