Splendid at the Checkout
I couldn't decide if she was ridiculous in her splendor, or splendid in her ridiculousness. The first thing that caught my eye perched on her head. From the baking products aisle of the Countdown grocery store, the head lump looked like a white beehive. A closer look from the checkout line revealed this 80-something Kiwi glama-gramma had fashioned a turban from (I think...) a pair of nylon stockings. It was braided and snaked around a mass of grey-blond hair. 12 Magpies could nest in that turban.
Glama-gramma chatted easily with the checker, clutching her receipt between shiny fake fuchsia talons. Diamond-looking rings sparkled from several fingers. A thick paste of sky-blue cream eyeshadow and long, fake, black eyelashes obscured her eyes. Her lips and wrinkled cheeks were painted bright pink She'd decorated herself like a Christmas tree, wearing a dozen or 20 silver necklaces and roughly the same number of jingly silver bracelets, the kind with dangling charms. She'd draped her small frame in a black cardigan that hit mid-thigh, where leggings sprouted. I never made it to shoes. I wish I could tell you about her footwear. I'm sure the shoes or boots were just as outrageous as the rest of her.
Glama stood beside a tall man with slicked-back grey hair. He smiled as if his partner was the most marvelous creature in the world. Doesn't he see how ridiculous she looks? Are they both senile? I resist the urge to pull my camera from my purse and snap a picture. Or at least, jot a few notes. I'm paralyzed. I can't take my eyes off her, this Glama-gramma.
The more I stared at Glama, the more I thought: Who cares if she smears her face with grease paint and empties the contents of her jewelry box onto her body each day? She's made it to 80 years old, or more. She's walking and shopping. She has a companion who appears pleased to be with her. I nearly tell her she looks splendid. I didn't. I'm telling you, instead. I couldn't resist.
I couldn't decide if she was ridiculous in her splendor, or splendid in her ridiculousness. The first thing that caught my eye perched on her head. From the baking products aisle of the Countdown grocery store, the head lump looked like a white beehive. A closer look from the checkout line revealed this 80-something Kiwi glama-gramma had fashioned a turban from (I think...) a pair of nylon stockings. It was braided and snaked around a mass of grey-blond hair. 12 Magpies could nest in that turban.
Glama-gramma chatted easily with the checker, clutching her receipt between shiny fake fuchsia talons. Diamond-looking rings sparkled from several fingers. A thick paste of sky-blue cream eyeshadow and long, fake, black eyelashes obscured her eyes. Her lips and wrinkled cheeks were painted bright pink She'd decorated herself like a Christmas tree, wearing a dozen or 20 silver necklaces and roughly the same number of jingly silver bracelets, the kind with dangling charms. She'd draped her small frame in a black cardigan that hit mid-thigh, where leggings sprouted. I never made it to shoes. I wish I could tell you about her footwear. I'm sure the shoes or boots were just as outrageous as the rest of her.
Glama stood beside a tall man with slicked-back grey hair. He smiled as if his partner was the most marvelous creature in the world. Doesn't he see how ridiculous she looks? Are they both senile? I resist the urge to pull my camera from my purse and snap a picture. Or at least, jot a few notes. I'm paralyzed. I can't take my eyes off her, this Glama-gramma.
The more I stared at Glama, the more I thought: Who cares if she smears her face with grease paint and empties the contents of her jewelry box onto her body each day? She's made it to 80 years old, or more. She's walking and shopping. She has a companion who appears pleased to be with her. I nearly tell her she looks splendid. I didn't. I'm telling you, instead. I couldn't resist.
I like to tell elderly couples, that publicly appear still enamored with each other, that they look beautiful together and that they inspire me.
ReplyDeleteAll seemed grateful to have been appreciated and noticed. I love old people...