“How are you?” I hear her say.
I don’t answer, assuming she must be speaking to someone else, because why would you address a question to someone’s back? (Yes, I know, this sounds a little defensive.)
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “Can you hear me?”
ARGGH. She thinks I’m old, I think.
“Of course,” I say, a little defensively.
At the supermarket, watching a guy bag my groceries.
“Should I pack them light?” he says.
This time, since I save the plastic bags (bad, I know, not to bring my own bag) for scooping out cat litter and the bags are so thin they get holes sometimes just from a cereal box, I say yes.
“Do you need help out?”
ARGGH. No, why would you think that, I’m perfectly capable of …
“No, I’m fine thanks,” I manage to mutter.
In New York, people have started offering me their seat on the subway. At the movies, I automatically get the senior citizen discount; on the train, I’m no longer asked for proof.
I guess it’s about time I stop trying to match the way I feel inside to how I look and act on the outside.