Yesterday I sent in the $29.50 to join the AARP (American Association of Retired People) for the next three years. I waste more money than that every month. They’ve been sending me invitations to join since well before my 50th birthday, which is the earliest one can join. So I finally decided that potential discounts are not to be overlooked, and the dues are cheap—so why not? To put things in perspective, I am not old enough for a Golden Buckeye Card. And I have probably another 11 or 12 years until I can retire.

Little did I know the abuse that I would take when I revealed my membership. None of the other baby-boomers in my office is a member (or at least no one admits to it). One of my friends has taken to referring to me as Daddy. (However, as another friend put it, better “Daddy” than “Grandaddy.”) Another declared that I am too old to view profiles on myspace.com.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to start signing up for seniors bus tours to Atlantic City. And with the wonderful world of American cosmetics, maybe i can struggle on for a few more years.

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