Does my butt look big in these cranky pants?

A good friend of mine, Liz, once described my style as 'Grandma'. I'm unsure as to what was more painful, the statement itself or the realisation that I am quite Nana-esque. These days I embrace the Nana, I rock the Granny. I wear cardigans and pearls, I sew, craft and cook goodies....or maybe these qualities make me a hipster??

Over the weekend I went to a matinee at the State Theatre with my Nonna and my Great Aunt. The demographics at matinees are generally dependant on the show itself, however most attendees have a bedtime of 7pm. Beyond this, plots with fairies, munchkins and ballerinas attract the kiddies (and by default, their parents) and shows with rousing chorus lines, innuendo and a barf-worthy love story attract the pensioners. If a production company is shrewd they'll find a combination of the two and have a killer season. Needless to say, I was with the oldies, rockin' the Nana...a brunette head, amongst a sea of grey.

Before the curtain was raised, two frail old bodies managed to have a tumble down the stairs. The first, a sprightly lady, rolled over, stood back up and continued on her merry way. The second was a gentleman, in his late 70s, who toppled down a number of stairs...one of his cronies eventually helped him up and guided him to the nearest seat. As he sat down, the poor fella almost missed the seat completely and sat on the arm of the chair. First Aid came and assisted the man and as they tried to get him up, he fell over again onto the floor where he began slipping in & out of consciousness. Eventually, rather than try to make him stand again, they brought in a stretcher and carried him out to be examined.

The performance didn't overly grab my attention, but observing this man in his frail state rattled me, so this provided good two hours to ponder. Naturally, my thoughts fell to age and ageing. Growing old doesn't scare me, but there are plenty of other things that do...this list includes; sultanas in curries, amaretto, white pants, carnies and matching socks. Also on this list is the fear that I will get to a ripe age and not have seen my desires fulfilled or made a difference in my world. I am sure that so many of those in the crowd at the show had dreams and aspirations that were never met and resulted in broken-hearts and disappointment.

Over the past few weeks, I've spent a fair chunk of time being in a bad mood. I've been a cranky pants wearing, scowling, wallowing, emotion fuelled wreck. That isn't me. Mostly, I am a very chipper person and I ride the waves of life with consistency and a sound perspective. Occasionally, this perspective is skewed by circumstances beyond my control (although, my attitude is in my control) and I become the aforementioned hideous bitch-face. Bitch-face Zara prevents me from making a change in my life, because she's attending a 24/7 pity party.

Following my contemplations on age, I couldn't help but resolve that I don't want to waste time being in a bad mood. Wearing your cranky pants doesn't impact anyone around you for the better; they just make look you've got a big fat attitude problem (excuse me, does my butt look big in these cranky pants?). So while I can't slow down the ageing process, I can slow down, assess my frame of mind and make choices that will create change & spur difference. And while heartbreak and disappointment are unavoidable, contentment within any circumstance is possible and it is this knowledge that prevents me from permanently wearing my cranky pants.