I'm Fifty?
Last year, I started receiving solicitation mailers from the AARP - which I believe stands for American Association of Retired Persons? I thought it was funny. A mislabeled, mis-sold mailing list, for sure.
Lately though, I've noticed continued mail from the AARP as well as junk mail from companies which I have to believe have purchased the AARP mailing list. I get a shit-ton of solicitations for supplemental Medicare coverage. Yesterday, I was specially invited to check out a new community of maintenance-provided villas in a community for older adults via a lovely postcard.
I don't think any of those older adults would appreciate it if I moved in next door with my 7 year old, his basketball goal and scooter, my 6 year old, her bike and traveling circus of toys, my two 2 year old boys and their wagons, riding toys, Fisher-Price lawnmowers and screaming fits.
So, anyway. The mail. I finally realized that the AARP (and now the sharers of its lists) truly believe that I am over 50 years old. For the record, I am 37. I already feel old enough that my 20 year high school reunion is looming. I don't need the AARP breathing down my neck.
Where did they get the idea that I was born in the late '50s anyway? I'm a kid of the '70s and early '80s. Little House on the Prairie, bikes with banana seats, metal lunch boxes with Scooby Doo and Hong Kong Phooey, latch hook rug kits with Holly Hobbie, Fashion Plates, posters of Shaun Cassidy from Tiger Beat, making Christmas lists from the Sears Christmas Catalog, feathered hair and designer jeans the first time 'round.
None of these things makes me young by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, reading back through it makes me feel old. But I'm not quite ready to supplement my Medicare...
Lately though, I've noticed continued mail from the AARP as well as junk mail from companies which I have to believe have purchased the AARP mailing list. I get a shit-ton of solicitations for supplemental Medicare coverage. Yesterday, I was specially invited to check out a new community of maintenance-provided villas in a community for older adults via a lovely postcard.
I don't think any of those older adults would appreciate it if I moved in next door with my 7 year old, his basketball goal and scooter, my 6 year old, her bike and traveling circus of toys, my two 2 year old boys and their wagons, riding toys, Fisher-Price lawnmowers and screaming fits.
So, anyway. The mail. I finally realized that the AARP (and now the sharers of its lists) truly believe that I am over 50 years old. For the record, I am 37. I already feel old enough that my 20 year high school reunion is looming. I don't need the AARP breathing down my neck.
Where did they get the idea that I was born in the late '50s anyway? I'm a kid of the '70s and early '80s. Little House on the Prairie, bikes with banana seats, metal lunch boxes with Scooby Doo and Hong Kong Phooey, latch hook rug kits with Holly Hobbie, Fashion Plates, posters of Shaun Cassidy from Tiger Beat, making Christmas lists from the Sears Christmas Catalog, feathered hair and designer jeans the first time 'round.
None of these things makes me young by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, reading back through it makes me feel old. But I'm not quite ready to supplement my Medicare...
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