If you saw me in public, picking up prescriptions at the drugstore or sitting in the waiting room at one of my many doctors’ appointments, you wouldn’t give me a second glance. If you thought about me at all, you might think I looked like a nice white-haired grandma. Or, if you’re a mean-spirited type, you’d peg me as a broken-down old hag, one who’d lived a bit too long. One foot in the grave. And you wouldn’t be wrong either way.
Sounds like me right now. I never was a looker though.
