I wish I could say I did it for the free tote bag. I almost wish I really was part of the 50-plus club. Almost. I really wish I could say I sent out my AARP membership dues out of some Pollyanna penchant for making lemonade out of lemons. The truth is I did it totally out of spite. Last month, years before I turn 50, I received my AARP card in the mail, and I was unreasonably offended.
It was funny when, on my husband’s 50th birthday this year—on the very day the oven timer rang indicating he had ripened to mid-century majesty—he received his AARP invitation in the mail. He was livid. I nearly peed my pants laughing.
It was even funnier when the catalogs came—the ones with support hose and shower chairs. It was hilarious when the ride-on scooter catalog came.
It was funny because we are so not what younger people think of when they picture middle age. At least in our minds we aren’t. We’re athletic. We dress fashionably (within reason). And we get mistaken for being much younger fairly often. More than that, two of our four children are actually proud to be seen with us (the 6-year-old and 13-year-old, however, would rather pretend to have spontaneously appeared on this Earth than acknowledge we are their parents).
Feeling particularly feisty, I placed the scooter catalog on top of the mail I handed to my husband. “Your scooter catalog, sir,” I said in a mockingly servile voice.
He looked at it and then smirked, “This catalog was addressed to you ma’am.”
My jaw physically came unhinged and dropped to the floor.
I grabbed the catalog and checked the label reading and rereading my name. I figured it was a mistake, and I laughed it off. Then more catalogs came, and I thought: “It would actually be kind of cool to have one of those grabber extenders to pick up the stray socks my dog drags around the house without having to bend down to pick them up. And those compression socks now come with flower patterns and tie-dye print, making them much cooler than the plain black style.”
Despite quickly slipping down the senior citizen slide, logically, I realized someone had played a joke on me and put me on a list.
I’m 40. When I came to my senses and forgot about the over-the-armrest remote control holder I wanted, I slipped into my body-conscious skirt with the comic book print that appropriately says “Pow!” on the right side of my backside, swept up my mostly-not-gray hair into a high pony tail, and slid into a pair of flip-flops—not Crocs—as I headed to the mailbox.
That was the day I got my AARP card, and that was the day I got really, really offended.
Again my husband laughed. I mean, I wear mini skirts. I have textbook blood pressure and heart-rate levels. I’m going to college. I only have itty, bitty fragile wrinkles around my eyes—baby chick prints, not crow’s feet.
But I took a different tactic. Unlike my husband, I decided to accept my invitation to the past-50 posse. I put the initial card in my wallet and sent off my money.
There are some major discounts that come with that card. I’m a college student right now, when it comes to saving a buck or two, I’m not ashamed. I’ll be flashing that card to anyone who will offer a senior discount.
Qualifying for a senior discount, though, makes things a little weird for me when I see my college classmates. It’s awesome to know you can buy beer and most of your classmates can’t, but it’s a little weird to know you can get into the movies for a discount and your poor college classmates have to pay full price.
Even walking on campus is weird now knowing how much older I am than my fellow classmates. I mean, I’ve got an AARP card.
Even though I’m not ashamed of my senior discount card, I’ve been quiet about it. Recently I attended a barbecue at my sister’s house. When the alcohol ran out, my sister and I walked to a nearby store for a bottle of wine.
The girl at the counter was about 21. She asked to see ID. My sister and I looked at each other and giggled.
My ID was buried somewhere in my deep-bottomed purse, “I don’t have my ID but I have this,” I said and I shoved my AARP card at her exaggeratedly.
My sister was shocked and the girl behind the counter just laughed. As she rang up our wine she heard me explain the card to my sister. “You know I got one of those cards,” the girl said. “It came on my 18th birthday. I knew I was getting older but I wasn’t that old. Don’t feel bad, it was a mistake.”
She was a wise one for being so young.
Still, I’m keeping the card.
Don’t worry, Shelly Cone didn’t really trick the AARP, she would’ve qualified for a spouse card anyway. But she still likes flashing it for the shock value. Contact Shelly through Executive Editor Ryan Miller, rmiller@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Oct 30 – Nov 5, 2014.