TURNING 70

Should I wake up breathing on August 24th, people who have known me since my youth will say that I beat the odds. No one-- and I do mean no one-- believed I would survive my 20s. My Mother used to say, whenever I called from a payphone in the middle of nowhere, "You're going to end up dead in a ditch!"

Bad men. Bad friends. Bad choices, and I'm still alive. Who would have thought?

Now, my greatest fears are what will happen on my 70th birthday.

Should I start purchasing Depends in bulk or wake up in a puddle of pee on August 24th?

Will my hair be blue, short, and curly that morning?

Am I going to have to buy stock in Botox?

Are my boobs going to start sagging? Wait. Never mind. Scratch that. Too late.

Should I be worried about a beard? Invest in Nair?

Will a Stair Glide seat automatically appear at the top of the steps?

Canes, walkers, motorized scooters. Do they just show up on my doorstep? Or do I have to order them?

Should I trade my stilettos for orthopedic slip-ons that I don't have to bend over to put on? Is there a time limit on that? Is it a law?

Does the motor vehicle department send me my handicapped hanger, or must I request it?

It is all so complicated.

How much jail time will I get if my husband throws a party for me and tells the whole world how old I am? It depends on if the jury is all older females and they've forgotten to wear their Depends that day. "Case dismissed! Where's the ladies' room?"

Nursing home. Do I get to choose or will one be assigned to me? I don't know how that works.

Meals on Wheels. Do we have to chase them down the street? I don't think I can do that. What a stupid idea to put wheels on meals for old people. They should do that for kids. Kids can run.

What happens to my Cougar label? Am I now a Saber Tooth Tiger?

Bunions? Will there be bunions? I've always feared having to tell people that I have bunions. I like Funyons though. Who names a snack after a foot problem anyway? Yuck. Now, I won't be able to eat them. Funyons, not bunions.

Do I have to register with the Office of the Aging? Is that a thing? I don't know. I've never been this old before.

Will an "I've fallen and can't get up necklace be mailed to me?" I hope not, because what if I fall and the ambulance comes and I haven't showered or done my hair? Maybe I'll just wear it while sitting down, so it doesn't get triggered.

Can I start saying, "Where's the beef?" at Wendy's? I've always wanted to be old enough to say that.

Finally, the Tooth Fairy. Will he sneak into my bedroom to steal all my teeth the night before my birthday? Sort of like the Mafia collecting a debt in the dark of night. If the fairy leaves me money, which he should, will it keep up with inflation? The last time I got paid for a tooth I got a nickel. That won't cut it in today's tooth market.

You can see why turning 70 worries me so. However, when I call my Mother today to wish her a Happy 97th birthday, I'm going to tell her that with the way she drives, she's far more likely to end up dead in a ditch than I am.

And then, I'm making my husband take me to the casino because I know I can beat the odds.

Well, today my Mother turns 97. When I call her I'll remind her that she was wrong...so far. No ditch has yet claimed me.