The mailman is making me feel older than I want to be

Were it not for the U.S. Postal Service, I wouldn’t mind getting old.

I was never a great beauty and I’m happily married, so I’m not overly concerned about losing my rugged good looks. I’m not thrilled with the prospect of eventually dying, but it doesn’t keep me up nights either. I’m not even resentful that my body no longer performs as it did when I was in my 20’s. In fact, considering the lousy maintenance I’ve put into it, my body’s doing better than it has any right to do.

Like I said, aging wouldn’t bother me, were it not for that blasted mail.

It started a few years ago, just before my 50th birthday. The envelope looked ordinary enough, but contained what was to be the harbinger of all the bad mail to come; an invitation to join the AARP.

AARP, for you kiddies, is the acronym for the American Association of Retired Persons. When I got the invitation, I still considered myself relatively young.

The AARP disagreed with this assessment; according to their experts, I was not even close to young. According to the AARP, I was old. (They used fluffy euphemisms like “golden years” and whatnot, but it all comes down to the same number of facial wrinkles.)

The AARP wanted me to join with millions of other geezers (by paying monthly dues) and reap the wondrous benefits of cheap prescription drugs and discounts on time shares in Florida.

I made up my mind to send an angry letter to the AARP telling them what they could do with their offer, but being old and confused, I never got around to it. I didn’t send them any dues, either, but that hasn’t stopped them from renewing their invitation every couple weeks. They know it’s only a matter of time.

A short while later, the coupons started showing up. Suddenly, inserted amongst the offers for 10 percent off razor blades and feminine hygiene products were coupons for things like hair dye. Hair dye for men.

My hair (miraculously) does not need dye. Not yet. I’m getting a little grey at the temples, but that’s about it. My hair works just fine, thanks.

And of course, there have been numerous offers for free samples of Viagra.

See above response to hair dye offer.

And Rogaine.

I have hair, it’s not too gray. Let the hair thing rest, already! You’re making me paranoid.

Then last week it happened. I knew it would. I got my first offer for a great deal on a “mobility scooter.”

How old do these people think I am? I’m 53, man! I still listen to Korn cranked to the max on the car stereo. I play tennis five days a week and ride a bicycle every day there’s not snow on the ground.

A scooter-mobile may be in my future, but not my immediate future. When (and if) I need one, I will call you. Meanwhile, leave me alone and let me enjoy what few (relatively) young years I have left!

On the other hand, I have noticed my hair seems just a little thinner, right in front there. It could be my imagination, but maybe I should hang on to those Rogaine coupons.

Just in case.


Missed a week? More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.