Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.
From "Courage for the Chicken-Hearted," by Becky Freeman:
Who decided we have to try so hard to stay young? Being smack in the middle of midlife reminds me a lot of my middle school years, when I was too old to be a cute little kid and too young to be a key-carrying, freewheeling teenager. The over-seventy age group gets a lot of financial perks-like Medicaid and a cheap cup of coffee at McDonalds. On the other end of the spectrum, the under-seven age group also fares well in the penny-pinching department: little kids are always being given free stuff-galloons and candy and toys in the kiddy meals. But markdowns of freebees for "in-betweeners" are nonexistent. When was the last time you saw a sign that read "Middle Age Discount"?
I've been thinking about this disparity for a while, and as a result, I have a dream, a new vision for change. Remember that Million Man March on America's capitol a few years back? Well, I think we ought to organize a Middle-Aged Women's "Waddle on Washington" in a collective effort to make our society more midlifer friendly. I've even written a speech outlining the changes I'd like to see.
If I, a woman of the middle ages, were in charge of the country-
Donuts would be declared a health food.
Walking into a room and forgetting why you are there would be a sign of genius.
Men's pajamas, sized extra large, would be considered elegant evening wear.
Glasses and car keys would holler, "Right here!" when you ask aloud, "Where did I put them?"
The word "plump" would be interchangeable with the word "sexy" and "attractive."
Everyone would agree to always be late to everything. (This way, you see, we'd all get there at the same time. I don't know why people in charge don't consult me on these things.)
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