Pool Pussy is a Senior! Hissssss!!!!!!

"How old are you?"

How old am I? Aghast, I stare open-mouthed at the 19 yr old? 16 yr old? 12 yr old? (She must be only 12--otherwise, she'd know better than to ask a middle-aged woman her age! Hell, we're not in China where the first question I was always asked was 'How old are you?' I got so damn sick of telling every stranger I met my age. Finally, I just resorted to lies--I'm 19, or I'm 100. Wow you look really young for 100!)

Should I resort to this strategy today as the sweet lifeguard/pool attendant smiles up at me?

Hell no!

I try for a smile, but fear it was more of a grimace. Not helpful to the myriad of wrinkles that obviously tipped off this sweet young thing. But hell, I swim! Doesn't that count for youthful beauty and glow for eternity?

Evidently not.

She continues to stare at me. Unsure.

I continue to stare at her. Pissed offl

"I have to ask," she purrsists.

You have to ask? Why the hell do you have to ask? Just to alienate every middle aged woman (I have a feeling men in my postion would not react so vehemently) who's trying to stay in shape at your damn swimming pool?

Berkeley! They just wanna do the politically correct thing by giving seniors a discount, right? So I should be grateful that she 'Has to ask....'

But yet....why oh why does she have to ask me!

Lord knows, I'm no spring kitten anymore. I'm the first to admit it. Hell, I'm in the throes of menopause for chrissakes. Can't I even be done with the hotflashes before I become a Senior?

Grrrrrrrr! Or as poolpussy, would say....hissssssss!!!!!

But Pool Youth Girl is undaunted. I can tell. She's not gonna back down and retract her question. Hell, it's too late for that. The damage is done. So I sigh. Roll my eyes. And try not to sound too snide, always a difficulty for me under the best of circumstances:
"I'm forty something."
"Oh...."
Oh? Like she doesn't believe me? Now I'm really mad! All I wanted to do was go for a swim and
cool off in the lovely summertime afternoon and I have to contend with my age and yes, my mortality, for of course, this is what it's all about, right? I mean, hell, getting older means not only that the youngsters are gonna try to give you a discount for swimming, but also that you're that much closer to the great beyond.

I'm not ready for that.
Hell, that's why I swim!

Okay, maybe I've overreacting. Yeah, perhaps a bit, but as I pay her the regular adult price of $4.50 and stalk into the swampy lockroom of Willard Jr. High, I can't help but wonder why she asked? Is it part of her training? 'And remember Jr. Lifeguards, be sure to alienate all patrons whenever possible. One sure way is to ask the middle aged women their ages! '

Yup, that'll do it! I can't think of one middle aged woman who would just love to be asked her age! Why it all starts so young! Watching "The Tuesday Night Book Club" the real desperate housewives of Scarsdale, AZ have a botox party! The oldest is 46, the youngest probably in her 20's....yet they all go for the needle in the lips. Is this a comment on our culture, or what?

But in the water, I'm buoyant again! The cool, wet, delicious cutting through the lane restores me even as I watch Miss I Have To Ask flirt with the supurr sexy cool dark sunglassed lifeguard watching us lapswimmers.

Or is he watching me?

He's definitely ignoring her!

Hah!

And as I heave myself out of pool, my slender muscled arms easily lifting me onto the deck, clad in my supurr cute daisy orange bikini, he does smile at me.

Or is that just my middle-aged fantasy life confusing my addled senior brain?

Whatever, I'll take it. And now, laughing to myself, I hurry into the lockerroom to shower as the non senior moms promise their shivering childern 'chungas'?

Sounds like a plan, as I soap up and zone out to the Vivaldo filtering in from the sexy lifeguard's boombox on the deck.

Senior? Middle aged? Youth?

Does it really matter?

Hell, yeah! I chuckle to myself as I towel off, looking forward to a quiet post swim evening with the Tuesday Night Bookclub Housewives and their botox fueled obsessions.