I was in the grocery store line-up waiting to unload my cart. Each cashier was like a tunnel loaded with product just right for impulse purchases… tabloids, candy, beverages, batteries, breath mints, magazines…

As is my practice, I diverted my eyes from tabloids in search of more interesting fare… I’m not all that concerned with which starlet may be on a downward spiral or which is sporting a possible baby bulge. I’d prefer my eyes to settle on safer more relvant fare… like how to store 10 bags of clutter in single shoe box in under an hour for $1.99. Stuff I could really use.

So I scanned the magazines searching for relevance, and froze on the spot when I came to “it”…

More Magazine… a magazine for Canadian women over 40. Dear G*d in heaven…. not since I was a teen did I need my own category of magazine. In my mind, the only categories of women’s magazines were teens, general women, and seniors. What on earth were they going to tell me about that I needed my own magazine? Surely I was not ready for articles on finding the right blue tint for my hair, or selecting the proper bus tour (not that there is anything particularly wrong with either if that’s what you like and where you are in life, I suppose).

I have gone up age categories on surveys, I have noticed the gray peaking through my hair, but nothing has quite smacked of my own personal aging as much as seeing that magazine up there.

I did not buy the magazine. No… instead I waited my turn, paid for my groceries, and got my aging keester back home… that place where young children, a small band of pets, and very full days keep me from considering accepting my own aging any time soon. (They are, however, particially responsible for a bit of the gray).


1 Response to “More”

  1. 1 Rambling Mom October 3, 2007 at 1:22 pm

    Honey, I’m older than you — and since *I* am not aging then YOU are not. As long as we have the kids and the pets and all the rest of it – we don’t have time to get old.

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