I Don't Have Gray Hair

In the continuing angst of my pending 40th, because really, what good is a blog without the ability to post angsty posts, I want to discuss my lack of gray hair and why I believe it indicates a faulty birth certificate providing proof that I'm getting ready to turn a mere 35.

I jest.

But not about the gray hair.

I mean, through some miracle of genetics, I don't have gray hair. It's the one blessing the Getting Older Fairy - as Becky so lovingly calls her - gave me. Of course, she was a royal bitch and gave me the inability to get rid of the poochy stomach, dark circles under my eyes, four stubborn chin hairs, and knees that ache after exercise, but...no gray hair.

But that's not what this post is about. This is about another little gift the Getting Older Fairy has given me. Not just me. She's given it to all women approaching a certain age. A token of her appreciation for putting up with jerks grabbing your ass and men staring at your boobs, if you will.

Over the summer I got a chance to watch Grace and Frankie. For those who haven't seen it yet, stop reading and go watch. It's a show that is only one Dolly Parton away from sheer perfection. There was one episode in particular that made me not only laugh but yell yes at the screen.

Grace and Frankie try to get the attention of the store clerk who seems to have eyes only for the buxom young things wandering the store. In frustration, they finally walk out, Frankie shoplifting the cigarettes they came in for. Now, granted, they're thirty years older than I am, but the gift holds true. Once a woman gets to a certain age, she is rendered invisible. Now...there are a few downsides to this - as there always is - but I'm going to focus on a perk.

I realized the full extent of this power not too long ago when I walked into the movie theater not only toting my own candy, but a tightly sealed mason jar of wine. No one even blinked as I wandered past the "no outside food or beverages sign" and handed my ticket to a boy young enough to be my son.

I felt a little thrill of excitement. I was breaking the rules! And the wine tasted so much sweeter. In a dry sort of way.

Waiters and store clerks may not flirt with me, but by God, I don't have to pay $9 for a half glass of rosè.