These are not my legs. I was going to post a picture of my legs but after looking at the picture I realized I now have wrinkles on my knees. How did that happen? It's not fair. Bad enough to get wrinkles around my eyes, mouth and neck, but my knees! I considered publishing the photo of my legs anyway, but my vanity prevented it. I thought these legs looked like a nice substitution. Besides, this woman in the black nylons looks as if she is going to have some fun, as if someone is admiring her legs, as if some naughty things just might happen after this photo was shot.
I haven't worn nylons in a decade, maybe longer. In high school I used to go through packages of panty hose each week. There was nothing worse than hurrying to school, opening up a new pair of pantyhose and yanking them on, only to realize in your rush you created a snag, and the sang turned into a nasty run. I wore fish net stockings. I had a pair of yellow ones to match my yellow shirt dress. This has nothing to do with my blog, but I just like remembering how special and cute I felt in that outfit. Now I feel as if bought fish net stockings I was planning on doing something kinky. We all have those outfits we remember from high school that we especially like to wear. I had a red dress with a Nehru collar that I think to do this day I still look for now and then when I shop for a new dress. I don't think they make Nehru collars anymore. Sigh.
In my senior year I achieved my high school goal of being a pom pom girl, forget academics, which has provided me endless opportunities even today. (I just haven't figured what exactly yet, but one day I will. Smiling, maybe? Ability to march?) On Fridays all the pom pom girls were allowed to wear the pleated blue and white skirts to school. What a thrill to prance around the halls in my skirt, showing off my legs, with my little white anklet stockings and saddle shoes. Do they even make saddle shoes anymore? I wouldn't mind owning a pair of those, either.
But I digress, at work the other night one of the younger male servers made a comment when he assumed I was out of ear shot. He underestimated that I am still able to hear. He said that I moved fast for an "old lady." At first, I was rather pleased he thought I walked fast. Then I realized I was being called an old lady. It's so odd to be called old when inside you still feel young. Inside, I feel 22. Outside, I look, well let's just say I read my social security statement carefully as there is not that many more years before I might need it.
I had a journalism professor in college who said that the best thing about writing was no matter how old you got you could do it and not worry about appearance. Actors, he said, weren't as lucky. At the time, I was in my mid 20s. I remember thinking to myself I would remember his words because one day I would need them. I didn't realize that one day would come so soon. My beloved journalism professor died many years ago, but his words live on me and so I pass them on to you. Creative pursuits whether writing, painting, crocheting, singing, even traveling, each enrich us no matter what the age is in our driver's licence. We may lose our youth, but we gain something far better, we learn to appreciate what's inside of us.
Maybe I will try on a pair of black hose like this gal in the photo and then I will be brave enough to wear shorts in public. And then I will really look senile. Oh well, I'm just glad this old lady can walk still. And write.