Posted by: foodtalker | November 27, 2010

daily prayer

I have this one fear.  Actually it’s more of a paralyzing terror.   That I’ll live long enough to become an old biddy.  Aging isn’t the issue, it’s the “biddy” bit that bothers me.  That’s a whole different classification.  Not just old, but old and a biddy.  

There’s a group of them at my church.  They collect in the front four pews on the left.  All women of course, with the exception of the odd lone medically challenged male who’s there oblivious and toughing it out with his old biddy wife.  That worries me.  Not just widows qualify. 

Of course, they’re the stalwarts of the congregation.  They’re a kindly bunch.  They’re into crafts.  They knit, make Christmas ornaments and weave baskets.  They fix sandwiches, stuff envelopes and coo over the newborns.  They get together and make things all the time.  They’re into pot lucks and look forward to the monthly Golden Age dinners in the community hall.  They all look alike, dress the same and have identical hairdos.  They have seasonal sweaters.  They smile and wave at me on Sundays, (or are they beckoning?) from across the aisle. 

Maybe I worry needlessly.  But, I mean, I just don’t think Jackie O would ever have crossed the line into old biddidom. 

I asked my friend Lisa what her biggest fear was.  Seems she’s on another plane to me.  She’s worried that the waist line on designer jeans will go even lower.   Not a good look with a muffin top she said.  

Janie however spends hours fretting about losing her hair.  Not just to the point where it begins to thin or even recede but when having lost so much standing in the light it’s possible to see straight through to a pink scalp.  Teasing for volume won’t help at that stage, she knows that.  She’s already gulping down Rogaine by the bottleful.    

I didn’t bother questioning any of my men friends, as we know they all have the same universal anxiety.  They might try to be original but I’d know they were faking it.  And anyway, unlike baldness that offers alternatives of hats and wigs, there’s really only a pill for their problem, and salty at that.   

But I did ask my fourteen year old nephew what fears he had about getting old.   He sort of blew me off and said, “Aunt Kate, I don’t have any morbid thoughts.”  But when coaxed he admited he’d worried about drowning in the bath tub and being found naked.  A bit like being in a car accident and taken to hospital wearing less than pristine underwear, I suppose.   The word “naked” was written all in capitals so I’d be sure not to miss the crux of his concern.  It didn’t seem to matter that the real tragedy was he’d drowned.

Last Sunday I noticed Maria, a friend who used to sit in the back of church.  It seemed she’d made the slide and joined ranks with the old biddies.  I wonder if she’ll soon be looking to recruit me?  It doesn’t seem to be a reversible status.  There isn’t an identity trial period.  An opportunity to try it on for size and fit.   They never seem to return to their former pews.

So now, along with other prayers  I’ve added my silent supplication: please, please God name your price, but spare me the fate of old biddidom.

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Responses

  1. Honey, if we become biddies, we have probably reached the point where it feels OK to slide to that side! lol In the meantime, keep Jackie O in mind…..but heck, not sure she was all that happy!

  2. Kate, you are thirty years from biddiedom. A lot can happen in 30 years!! 60 is the new 40. Love, M

  3. Getting older is not for sissies, and the strategies for seeking comfort in the face of the inevitable are myriad. Biddies, for example, flock. Jackie O was more solitary. She smoked, read, traveled, exercised, wore huge sunglasses and Hermes scarves (like Queen Elizabeth!), and took her granddaughter to Central Park. Inner resources, outward focus–don’t you think those might be important counterweights to biddidom? Biddyhood? Biddybodies?

    • “Biddybodies”. Great word!

  4. Wow! Just dance and play your guitar! Everything else will take care of itself. Biddies are for sissies!

  5. Your nephew is actually 15. Hope it isn’t too cold over there, had our first snowfall yesterday, which grandma didn’t mind and hasn’t fallen over just yet. Am off to carol service in school chapel but will be on skype after. x

  6. Kate,
    I can’t imagine anyone ever calling you an old biddy! Just stay on the other side of the aisle.
    Best,
    Bev

  7. I started reading and had to wonder which side I was sitting on. Come on over!


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