The Last Installment

Here's the third part of my description assignment. Sorry its taken me so long to get up here. Life sort of got in the way.

#3. Describe yourself, standing in front of a mirror, at age eighty.

It’s been eighty years. Hard to believe. Time seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. Just yesterday I was 18, happily going about life and love. Standing in front of the mirror, its hard to believe that the reflection staring back at me is the same person as that 18 year old girl.

My hair is completely gray now. Sure, I had a few strands back then, but now I’ve got a full head of long, silver hair. I vowed I would never the short ‘old lady’ haircut, and now I keep my hair plaited in a French braid, the ends reaching my lower back. My skin has lost its firmness, and I have wrinkles around my eyes.

My eyes themselves seem a little less clear. The little green tints are less visible, and the color seems to be just a dull brown. The skin on my jaw sags, just like the rest of the family. As I lift my hands to pull the skin taught, I notice that even they seem to have gained many little wrinkles and grooves. My veins are visible through my loose skin. My arms sag a little as well. Maybe I should have taken that yoga class last spring after all.

The rest of me hasn’t changed much. Even my fashion sense hasn’t changed. Here I am, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, at age 80. So inappropriate, according to the ladies I pass in the café. According to them I should be wearing only dresses and orthopedic shoes. I still wear Birkenstocks. Not to mention the tattoos.

When I was 19, I got my first tattoo, a small peace sign on my left hip. Then, at age 21, I got the palm-sized raven design in the middle of my back. The four leaf clover on my left ankle came at age 30. I never did take the ring out of my left nostril either. I’ve always loved being a bit of a rebel.

I turned around in the mirror, letting the blue and purple peasant dress I was wearing twirl around my bare ankles. My granddaughter nodded her approval at the garment and I smiled. Maybe being 80 wasn’t so bad after all.