I still may not know what I want to be when I grow up, but I do know what I want to be when I grow old…eccentric. So every now and then I like to spend a few moments evaluating how I’m doing on my transition from middle age to that phase in my life that will have my three sons arguing over whose turn it is to check on me.
Sadly, things aren’t looking all too great for me in the pre-eccentric department these days. Going on a diet earlier this year has left my hips, Pumpkin and Strudel (a.k.a. my aces in the hole to achieving eccentricity) speechless, except for Pumpkin’s regular outbursts in which she impersonates the Wicked Witch of the West. (“Ahhhhh! You cursed brat! I’m melting!”) That stopped being funny a long time ago.
But when it came to these two overbearing wenches, what choice did I have but to take action to reduce their growing influence over me? On the day I started my diet, I believed, with good reason, that I was only a week or two away from wearing extra large granny panties and navy blue Spandex pedal pushers. I may be fashion-impaired, but even I don’t want to go there.
Copyright © 2017 Patra Taylor