I love that poem, “When I’m an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple” What a fun way to think about getting older, wearing what you want and doing what you want. It sounds grand doesn’t it? Alas, when I’m an old woman, I shall wear nothing. I’m sure you are thinking that is an odd statement. Who wants to sit around nude? It’s cold and not very flattering.
When I go out to eat with others or, heck, even when I’m home I always dribble or spill food on myself. At my age, I do know how to eat. You don’t get this voluptuous (aka fat) by just nibbling on leaves. Perhaps I should alter my diet as leaves are dry and don’t leave dribbles on my shirt.
Going out with Mr. Bernie or Cassie and/or Trish can be fun when I don’t spill. Mr. Bernie likes to say to me, “I’m so proud! Good job Bernadette.” Cassie and/or Trish clap for me like a kid eating baby food. “Good job, Bern Go You!!” They offer stickers and clown cars come out of the woodwork, balloons drop from the ceiling. This should tell you that me not spilling is quite an event for those around me. They make sport when I avoid making messes.
Today I sat in my office having an afternoon snack of yogurt. Sadly, it was not my favorite lime but some kind of berry yogurt. I was doing pretty good not spilling on myself or so I thought. I tossed the container in the trash and went to adjust the lanyard holding my identification. I felt some cool rich gooey-ness creep up my fingers like a slimy bit of nastiness. I quickly looked down and yelped! It looked as if I had just taken the container and poured it on my chest. Both sides of my shirt and stomach looked like I have an eating problem or something. My first reaction was getting this kind of mess takes a real talent. I didn’t know I possessed such creativity. Seriously, I looked like I just dropped big blobs of yogurt all across me for some kind of beauty treatment. All I could do was stare down at myself and wonder when I spilled all that. I didn’t remember anything falling. Maybe I’m dying and body is going numb? Did someone come in my office and slap a blob of yogurt on me? Did I miss the food fight?
Once I got done pondering how this happened, it was time to clean it up. Ya, bathroom paper-towels are not really the best way to clean off BLACK clothes. I started by grabbing a huge clump of yogurt off the center of my chest. Frantically getting the paper-towel wet and wondering how these things happen to me. I yanked of my lanyard and washed it in the sink. I cleaned the outside edges of my chest, leaving a trail of paper-towel lint in my wake. I leaned over the sink to get my chest wet and hiked up the bottom of my shirt to get that wet too. I prayed all the while that I would not smell like curled milk and that none of my co-workers were going to come into my office. How do you explain leaning over the counter with your shirt stretched out under a running sink? I wanted to check my lanyard one more time, giving it the sniff test. Lo and behold, I somehow got yogurt INTO the plastic pouch that holds my work ID. Son of a ……..
So that my friend’s is why I shall wear nothing when I’m old. One of my friends at work suggested they might need to find me a bib. If I’m this bad at my age, then I might as well just be hooked up to a trough as an elderly woman. But I will miss the cheering and stickers for not spilling….