"When I get to be old" I would say "maybe like 25".
"When I was in my early 30's my grandmother remarked "you said that you were going to cut that damn mop when you were 25, when you got "old", remember saying that?"
I nodded yes.
"Indeed, I do remember saying that" I said.
"Well" she replied "what has changed?"
"I guess my definition of old" I answered.
Today Jenny Matlock over at off on my tangent challenged us to write a short story using a prompt that she'd given us... and an additional (very generous) 100 words. The prompt is in bold italics
To read what the other contributors have written please go here.
This day was long past due. Her decision would tell the world for certain that she’d finally grown up. Before she left the house for the very important appointment she checked her appearance one last time. Neither a bun nor a ponytail seemed to fit her mood today. Loose and flowing felt better, that way the wind could pick up strands and let them tickle her face and stick to her lipstick one last time. Saying goodbye was harder than she thought. It was time to retire her waist length tresses; she was, after all, soon to be 75.