Jamie Janosz

I'm older. I know that. But, honestly, I still feel pretty young. Well, most days at least Today I received a not-requested senior discount at Einstein Bagels. It appeared as a $1.03 credit on my receipt, along with the cheery explanation. And if other people don't tell me I'm older, my body definitely does. I traveled to and from Chicago last week with my daughter and her friend. Being the self sufficient woman I am, I helped the girls boost their luggage into the airline's overhead bin. Later that day, I felt my mistake. My back has not been happy ever since. I've been putting those sticky heat patches on it, Ben Gay rub, ice, heat wraps, you name it. And still when I turn incorrectly . . . ouch. There are other signs too. I wear glasses now . . . all the time. It started with readers, and then progressed to progressives. And I HAVE to color my hair now. Those pesky roots keep reappearing in an ever-shinier shade of silver. I (briefly) considered embr...

My daughter told me recently that I am a part of the "gracefully aging" club. She intended this as a compliment. It came about when I was helping her choose an outfit to wear to junior high school. Because we werein the midst of spring, I suggested that she put a cardigan sweater over her t-shirt. "Mom," she sighed. "No one wears cardigans in my school. Except, maybe, the old teachers." "What? They're so cute! I wear cardigans," I insisted. "Well...they look good on you ," she said, back-peddling quickly. "But aren't they only worn by older teachers?" I pushed. Ever the diplomat, my beautiful and much younger offspring replied, "Yes, mom. But you look great. You're part of the gracefully aging club." Sigh. I am in my mid-forties. Actually, later mid-forties. I am only three short years away from the dreaded AARP application arriving in the mail. There are things I would want to wear that ...