Fond Memories at Dennys

            I was in Seattle last week and ate in the Dennys Restaurant where I became a senior citizen.

            When you’re 16 years old, it’s flattering if someone thinks you’re older.  I remember a long ago airplane ride when I was returning to school.  The flight attendant approached and handed me a list of cocktails available.

            “Would you like to purchase a drink?”

            I felt like gushing, “Uh, uh, (giggle) I’m only 16.  I can’t drink.”   But I was incredibly cool, and casually looked over the list a minute then shook my head and said, “No. Nothing today.”  

            Fast forward 38 years.  My husband and I were killing time before leaving on an Alaskan cruise, and we decided to have a late breakfast at Dennys.  The waitress approached to take our order.  She turned to me.

            “What can I get you?”

            “I’ll have two eggs, scrambled, bacon, and whole wheat toast.  Could I also get a small orange juice?”

            “Certainly.  And I'll apply the Senior Citizens’ discount to this.”

            My mouth dropped open as I looked up at her.  “What?”  I looked across the table at my husband and saw he was starting to laugh.

            “The Senior Citizen’s discount,” she repeated again.  “Don’t you want it?”

            “How old do you have to be to get the discount?” my husband asked with a big grin.

            “55.”

            “Well be sure to give it to me,” he said.

            “I’m only 54,” I sputtered.  “I won’t be 55 until tomorrow!”

            “Well, I’ll  give it to you today as a birthday present,” she said smiling benevolently.  She took my husband’s order, and then briskly walked away.  I’m sure she thought the $1.50 discount she had just given me one day early made my day.

            I sat there bewildered . . . stunned.  The happy shine of the upcoming Alaskan cruise had just been smacked out of the sky.

            When I looked at my husband again, he was doing that quiet, shaking laugh across the table.

            “Happy birthday to you,” he sang.

            “Oh shut up!”

What You Can Learn From An Infant

            I had all four children visiting last week, and with them were three grandchildren all one year old and under.  Here’s what I learned from watching them.

            Babies and old people wake up before 6 a.m.

            Everyone likes bananas.

            It’s good to take a walk around the neighborhood in the morning while it’s still cool.

            Chubby thighs with rolls of flesh are cute.

            Our knees get rough very early on.

            Cartoons are still fun to watch, especially Yo Gabba Gabba.

            We all wobble when we walk.

            When you’re unhappy, you should talk about it (or yell, or cry if you don’t have words).

            It’s a good thing to take a nap in the afternoon.

            Everyone likes sweet potatoes.

            Sitting outside in the evening will help you unwind at the end of the day.

            A quiet bath before bed helps you sleep.

            Everyone smells sweet after a bath.

            No one sleeps well in a strange bed.

Mom Jeans

            I miss my Mom Jeans.

            Mom Jeans came all the way up to your natural waist.  If your top slipped up, they hid your bellybutton.  Unfortunately they showed how far it was from your crotch to your waist, making someone look like they had a humongous caboose.

            But here’s what they didn’t do.  Most of the time they didn’t show a muffin top above them.  They buttoned at the slimmest part of your torso.  Women didn’t have that roll of doughy flesh hanging over the top of the waistband when they were wearing Mom Jeans.  It was all below the waistband controlled with denim.  Have you noticed that pre-pubescent girls are the only ones without a muffin top above their jeans these days?

            But the best thing about Mom Jeans is they didn’t show your Plumbers’ Crack!  I’m sick of seeing women reveal way too much when they bend over, squat, or even sit. Go to any shoe store and watch women trying on shoes.  It isn’t pretty.

            That backside-reveal necessitates tank tops or t-shirts that are eight inches longer than they used to be under everything.  The bottom of the tops and t-shirts creep up because they’re stretchy and are seeking a place of less resistance – your natural waist.  So every time you stand up, you have to pull the top back down. 

            After about six washes, the tops shrink and can no longer do their coverage duty.  It doesn’t matter if you bought the top at Old Navy for $7, or at the Ann Taylor Outlet for $25.  They shrink in length!  And you have to constantly replace them.

            I will concede that Mom Jeans made you look like your backside was huge, especially if you tucked your top in.  But after a certain age, it’s not the huge backside that’s the biggest problem.  It’s the squishy dough around the middle.  Current styles of jeans only emphasize our bread dough middles. 

            So what do we do?  We buy big fluffy blouses and shirts to go over our tops to hide all the soft pillows of flesh billowing under our stretchy cover-it-all tank tops. 

            Those big, fluffy tops are long enough that you would have to lift them up and peak under them to see where someone’s jeans buttoned.  I could probably hide some Mom Jeans under it.  But sadly, I don’t have any Mom Jeans anymore.  I tossed my last pair during the last purge of my closet.

          I miss my Mom Jeans. 

         Weeeeellll . . .  maybe not.