Traveling used to be glamorous. I used to be glamorous.
My Dad wore a shirt and tie and the whole family would hold proudly onto our Airline printed bags. We did The Strut through Bob Hope Airport with our sunglasses and holiday dreams in tow. We were part of the club - the traveling crowd.
Cue "Stayin' Alive", with me as an 11 year old wanna be gonna be actress, with Charlies Angels hair and orange lipstick.
Now flurry forward to 2011.
Cue "La Freak".
On the flight to San Francisco, I was unlucky to have to squeeze myself and thunder thighs into the middle seat and enjoy the journey in a Lotus position.
On today's flight to LA I was on an aisle seat, and as the plane was beginning to fill, I would see people look at me, look at the empty seat next to me and then move on.
I began to smile at them.
I began to suck in my thighs and smile at them.
I didn't want anyone to sit next to me, and yet I was offended that nobody wanted to!My outer image is fading and I am heading quickly toward the granny from Omaha look. People must think, don't sit next to her, shes bound to bring out photos of the grandchildren and boast about her knitting patterns.
Circumstances do not help. For example:
The hotel hair dryer did not work in the morning thus leaving my hair to become frizzy and flipping at the ends. It was so cold in San Francisco, that I bought a furry, gray sweat shirt, designed especially for forgetful tourists, who may need to be reminded that they had been to SAN FRANCISCO by checking the name on their sweatshirt.
Then, there are The Shoes. I had bought nice travel shoes, which unbelievably on the first walking day decided to be too big for me. So big that even a quickly purchased pair of heel grips did not work.
Why the buggers were not that loose on the day I bought them is obviously down to the wonders of fluid retention. Anyway, I bought a flat pair of shoes with laces. With laces? I was desperate that these things be comfortable and stay on my feet, so laces seemed the Payless Style-less option.
Going through security my Chicos Travellers Pants (yes they are called that) have now got electricity running through them and are sticking to my legs, riding up to reveal sexy thick socks. Plus the sweatshirt is now too warm for the gorgeous hot flush I am enduring and a running stream of sweat trickles from my neck down my back.
Did I tell you my pants have an elasticated waist? Nobody knows that but me, yet I know it and feel everyone else knows it.
The 8:20am direct flight from Middle Age to Old Lady now boarding at Gate 45.Tomorrow I fly to Arizona.The flat shoes with laces and the elastic waist pants will stay in LA.