Mail order catalogs deliver unwanted messageA couple of years ago, I started receiving a new genre of mail order catalogs showing up in my mailbox with their pages and pages of everything one could ever want to make the golden years shine a little brighter. Seriously, how did that happen? What list is my name on that triggered the arrival of old people catalogs in my mailbox?
A couple of years ago, I started receiving a new genre of mail order catalogs showing up in my mailbox with their pages and pages of everything one could ever want to make the golden years shine a little brighter.
Seriously, how did that happen? What list is my name on that triggered the arrival of old people catalogs in my mailbox?
It started with a subtle shift in selections of women’s clothing. The models in Chadwick’s of Boston appear to be in their early 30s, but the clothes they are modeling seem more suitable for grandmothers.
If I didn’t get the hint from the dark pantsuits, jeans with elastic waistbands and sensible heeled shoes, the pages of granny panties were a dead giveaway.
Then came the Woman Within, plus size clothing. I’m not quite certain, but I think that title might be insulting. Does it refer to the young and slender woman that is trapped inside my aging, bulging body, screaming to get out?
If there was any question left that my name is written in permanent ink on the direct mail master list of old people, the arrival of Dr. Leonard’s answered it.
That catalog is filled with more gadgets, appliances and assistive implements to ease daily living for the soon to be decrepit, than Carter has pills — cliché intended.
Vision aids, hearing aids, breathing aids, bathroom aids and kitchenware — don’t let the name fool you, KitchenAid was already taken. It’s still an entire line of thingamajigs to aid arthritic hands in opening jars, bottles and cans, gripping pots and pans, and slicing food without losing a finger in the process.
Perhaps I should find the arrival of this catalog reassuring, even supportive one might say. A quick turn through the pages reveals enough support wear to keep the Stay Puff Marshmallow firm and upright at the feast of the s’mores.
Dr. Leonard’s has foundation garments to reign in and support every body part from my décolleté to my derrière and all flab in between. Add support hose, knee supports, back supports, arch supports, wrist, elbow and shoulder braces, hammertoe relief pads and arthritis gloves, and I could reinforce my entire body. If I donned a cape I’d be downright invincible — Super Old Woman!
My favorite pages show the exercise equipment. I never knew I could get so much exercise just sitting in a chair. They have little bicycle peddle exercisers that you put on the floor in front of your chair to pedal away your pounds. If I tuned into the travel channel I could pretend I was bicycling through the streets of quaint European villages. Maybe I’ll spring for the motorized model and pretend I’m speeding around on a scooter.
The sitting stepper is a bit hard to describe. Imagine side-by-side blue plastic duckbills. The duck mouths are open and the idea is to close them against the provided resistance by pushing with your feet. It doesn’t mention sound effects but I’m hearing quack, quack, quackery.
The Rhythm Rocker is a chair-like contraption that allows you to rock from hip to hip in a seated position. Sort of the way you might wiggle if you need the incontinence products sold in the health products section.
I could always spring for the whole ball of wax — the chair gym. This folding chair with attached resistance bands offers over 50 different exercises, and I can do all of them comfortably seated.
I’d better add a couple jars of assorted muscle rubs to my order. Apparently, I need them at my age. At least Dr. Leonard seems to think so.
Judith Liebaert was raised in Superior and now lives in rural Douglas County. She blogs on-line as the Mad Goddess™. Send your comments or story ideas to judith_ann@madgoddess.