I am that little old lady…

This post was originally written and posted in 2016. I posted an update at the end…

I came to Florida right after high school graduation, at age 17. Everywhere I looked there were the old people. Of course at my age, anyone over 40 was old, including my parents.

I spent over thirty years in Florida, not all at one time, but interspersed with job related moves to other states. But there were always the old people. Shuffling and hobbling along, wearing outdated clothes, buried under big hats and in many layers of clothing.

I sat and watched them, especially the women, comfortable in my cut-off denim shorts, tank top and flip-flops, vowing I would never be that little old lady. The one who always seemed to be wearing a sweater, often a not so flattering one. Crocheted or knit, buttons up to the neck, swaddled in scarves. No, I would never be that little old lady.

Fast forward to my fifties and my last move to Florida. I was semi-retired, learning to ride a motorcycle and hoping my husband could beat cancer. We ate out a lot and I always had a sweatshirt with me to fight off the cold air conditioning. I wondered how anyone could sit there in shorts and tank tops – they obviously kept the AC set too low! I could still ride my motorcycle in short sleeves if the temperature was 70 and rising for the day. In my late fifties, I toured the country on my Harley, riding in all kinds of weather including snow and ice. I wasn’t that little old lady.

Moving into my sixties, still riding motorcycles but finding I was a fair weather rider. First came the heated gear, then not riding if it was below 70 outside, then it was wearing a leather jacket until temps broke well into the 80’s.

As a full-time RVer, I try to stay where it’s relatively warm, negating the need for dressing in layers. Of course there are still THOSE days, the ones where it never gets out of the sixties, the sun is obscured by clouds and the drizzle makes it colder and damper.

Heading out to eat one day, I realized I never left the house without a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, I have one sweatshirt stored on the motorcycle and one stored in our truck, just in case. I always wore it in restaurants and movie theaters.

It finally hit me. I don’t know when or how but I AM that little old lady!

Eight+ years have passed and at age 77, I am definitely that old lady. I am often cold when others are running around in shorts and short-sleeve shirts. I love the warmth of the sun – well, until a hot flash hits me. Then I run for cover. But I have to somewhat avoid the sun or at least be covered thanks to skin cancer from all my years of sun worship. I am thankful for all my wool clothes even though I often have to layer – but then again, that makes it easier to unlayer when a hot flash hits.