No, this isn't me. It's just an example of how terribly wrong things can go after a certain age. I'll be taking this with me to the makeup counter as an antidote to pushy salespeople.
I'm going to pick up my new glasses today. They're not the thick black plastic kind the kids are wearing, but they are small, wide rectangles in a dark, heavy wire. It seemed like a good compromise. How they're going to get bifocals into a lens that small is a mystery.
I'm still putting off the clothes and shoes thing. I despise shopping because it's so depressing. We have loads of stores filled with beautiful things, but not one item in any of them ever fits me. "Petites" don't come large enough, and large sizes don't come "petite" enough.
"Petite." Boy, there's a label straight out of a marketing department. Ditto "Womens". They mean short and fat, respectively.
When I do find things, I hold on to them for years. Many, many years. Unfortunately, all my business stuff has those football-player shoulder pads. I'm thinking it may be time to let go of the eighties. Even I know they ain't never coming back.