I have a cloak of invisibility. Yes, I know you think only Harry Potter has one, given to him by Dumbledore with the admonition, “use it well.” But I have one I wear nearly every time I go out. Perhaps you have it, too.
It’s called Being Over 40. You actually get a glimpse of this when you’re young and have a baby in a stroller. You go to the mall, let’s say, and no teenager can see you, whatsoever. Even if you were cute just three years ago. Their eyes may fall upon you, but those eyes just keep scanning the crowd, because you have fallen off the cliff of People Who Matter. At least to teenagers.
And this is but a harbinger of what is to come. After 40 you become sufficiently invisible enough to, conceivably, rob a bank. Without a disguise. If, let’s say, that bank employed only people in their twenties. You have virtually entered Geezerdom and are no longer noteworthy. Or glanceworthy.
To get help in a store, you must track down an employee (often running to catch them), and beg for assistance. They help you for only as long as they can manage it, before returning to their important customers.
The invisibility cloak gets thicker with every passing year, until you are treated with amusement, like a friendly apparition. Your opinions are not sought, your comments are not heard, and your presence is not acknowledged.
And at first this feels unkind, even disrespectful. BUT… as with many a dark cloud, it has a silver lining. You can smooch with your husband in a public place, and people will simply look away. You can giggle at greeting cards and no one stares. You can stumble around with zero embarrassment, because no one is watching you. You can order a triple scoop of ice cream.
You can say, “No, I don’t think so,” and not feel you must provide reasons. You can wear the purple sweater with the green pants. You can break into song. And it’s all ignored by the general public.
So not only do I have a cloak of invisibility, but it’s a silver one. Coolio.
You can also read as many books as you like, and take all the time you wish. Might I suggest these for Mother’s Day?