In my twenties, I ceased to produce melanin in the roots of my hair.
And then my hair began to lose its pigment.
It turned gray.
So I did the natural thing.
I dyed it.
And then somewhere in my thirties, I decided to quit being natural and I stopped all the dying.
What a golden opportunity that provided me.
You see, I was suddenly catapulted years into my future.
I was a real life time traveler.
And it was during this period that I wrote my memoires, Old Like Me.
It was never published.
It was not a best seller.
And they did not make it into a movie.
But, Old Like Me, did prepare me for my granddaughter's twenty first birthday that took place just this last week.
We were all gathered in my old stomping grounds from back when I was in college and I'd owned the world.
It was a huge celebration.
Lots of family and friends to cheer.
And then Giselle wanted a glass of water.
"I'll get it for you," I said.
I walked up to the bar.
I was the only one facing it.
A bartender with jet black hair and square framed glasses to match walked my way.
He looked at me.
We made eye contact.
He did not.
And he walked right by.
Just as I'd written in my book thirty years prior, once again, I, me, Millie Noe, was invisible.
And then he came back in my direction from the other end of the bar.
"Oh, here he comes."
I waved to him.
He walked right on by.
And then cleared off a table.
When this shit happened to me in my thirties I was able to stop the world from being such assholes.
I called my daughter and said, "Do you think I should color my hair again?"
I was holding a box that I brought home from the drug store. It had a picture of a pretty girl with chestnut brown hair on the front of it.
And my daughter screamed, "Yes!" into the phone so loud and so fast, that I was wearing plastic gloves and was under a mop of stinky goo within a few minutes.
And just like that.
Millie Noe was back.
I was able to order my own drinks.
I could flag down a waitress.
And a guy tried to pick me up.
It was a pretty good deal for only $8.99.
Since that day I have been living happily ever after, under an array of many different shades, colors, highlights and styles.
Kids these days.
Now they have O-Dar.
It's a lot like Gay-Dar.
You know, they can tell if a person is gay, straight, BI, Trans, Hans, and or whatever they are into because they can smell pheromones.
Well, they can also smell old.
Old can no longer be disguised with a simple box of dye.
Not to this generation.
I am not blaming anybody.
I get it.
A person is not able to wait on a person that they cannot see.
But, if one day you find yourself in the same aging predicament that so many of us find ourselves in, by no fault of our own, I will at least attempt to help you figure out a way to order yourself a drink.
Because you are definitely going to need one.
1) Surround yourself with people who are older than you are. This won't get you a drink, but it will make you feel good.
2) Never go out on your own. One little old lady will not be noticed. But a gaggle of women over a certain age asking for separate checks, are not only noticed, but are feared.
3) Ask your son to order you a drink. He will not only bring it to you, he will pay for it.
4) Dive bars are your best bet, especially if you have all of your teeth, whether they are naturally yours or not, there is a good chance you will stand out and be noticed.
5) Go north. There you will have great service. Not on your phone, but you can at least order a draft beer.
6) VFW's are for you. Old men in those bars will flirt with any girl. Age makes no difference. You will not only be able to order a drink, you will actually believe that you are young and hot.
7) Wear leather. Biker chicks get whatever they want no matter how old they are. Cuz otherwise they will kick your ass. And everybody knows it.
8) Always yell, "A shot of Jager, please." This one turns bartenders heads. And they will come back because they have never seen a grandma drink Jagermeister.
9) Borrow somebody's one hitter and set it next to your twenty on the bar. The server will stop in front of you to check it out and this is your opportunity to shout something. It is not a guarantee that you will be heard, but it's worth a try.
10) Just stay home. When you see your sweet Sven heading toward the kitchen, ask him to pour you a glass of wine.
"What's that Louisa?"
Hang on a minute. My sister, younger by thirteen months and always reminding me of it, has something to say.
She always does.
Louisa told me to quit complaining.
To shut up.
And to watch all the pretty birds at my new bird feeder.
Actually that is not the worst idea she has come up with.
You know, when I was younger, I never even saw any birds.
Now, they are everywhere.
Has anyone else noticed this?
It makes me wonder if they are dying their feathers or something.