At 66

 

I am becoming a cranky old woman, the kind that sends back a steak for being too rare, or a martini for not being ice cold.

 

I will yell “You’re Welcome” at people who don’t say ‘Thank You’ when I hold the door open for them. 

Look, I know that respect must be earned. I don’t expect respect just because I’m old.

But I do expect courtesy, because I’m a human being.

 

I will patiently stand in line behind a young mother trying to find her credit card while dealing with a screaming toddler. 

But I will shut down the 50-something man behind me for complaining, because I know he’s never dealt with a screaming toddler in his life.

 

I will not finish a book that’s boring, a movie that doesn’t make me laugh, or a conversation with someone who doesn’t make me feel good about myself and my life.

 

I will not read another article about what women my age should be wearing, how our hair should look, what foods we should eat, or what color nail polish we should wear, because I’m pretty sure NONE of those articles were written by actual women my age.

 

I will not be made to feel embarrassed by not knowing the latest technology by a generation that doesn’t know how to drive a stick shift, read a paper map, or load film into a camera.

 

I will no longer be silent if a person makes a comment that is racist, homophobic, or misogynistic.

I won’t stand by and watch another person be embarrassed, abused or demeaned for simply trying to be their own true self.

Yes, it IS my business. Calling out an asshole should be everyone’s business.

 

I will no longer give my time, energy or ideas to anyone who does not truly appreciate their worth.

 

I am becoming a cranky old woman, and I’m really enjoying the ride.