Pam: When I was in Wichita I was killing time in an antique mall. I hate to admit it, but I ran across half my childhood toys there. It made me feel pretty old.
Ann: Don’t even talk to me. I’m older than you are. Seeing my childhood toys in an antique shop isn’t nearly as bad as what’s happening to my body. Yesterday I discovered that going bra-less pulls all the wrinkles out of my neck. Talk about depressing!Pam: Oh, you’re being dramatic. It’s not that bad.
Ann: It is! I swear these days it takes me twice as long to look half as good. Getting older is the pits.
Pam: I don’t care what happens to the outside of me. It’s the inside of me that’s falling apart. In the last few years it takes me longer to rest than it did to get tired.
Ann: Hey, you still paint the town red on occasion.
Pam: Yeah. But now I have to wait a lot longer before I can apply a second coat.
Ann: Kind of like my make-up. My energy isn’t what it used to be either. But at least you still want to go out. I really look forward to a dull evening at home.
Pam: An older man at church told me that he knew he was officially old when he realized he didn’t care where his wife went as long as he didn’t have to go with her.
Ann: I think I realized I wasn’t young anymore when I had a big party at my house and the neighbors didn’t even notice, much less complain.
Pam: Well this is all quite an adjustment for me. Didn’t it bother you when you realized you weren’t exactly young any more?
Ann: I don’t know. Some people think getting older means you've outlived your enthusiasm. But I think of it as mellowing. I’m definitely much more patient.
Pam: I’m more patient too. But not because I’ve mellowed; I just don’t care anymore. But don’t tell anyone, okay? It sounds pretty pathetic.
Ann: You don’t have to worry. Your secrets are safe with me. I’m old. I can’t remember them anyway.
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