Showing posts with label ageing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ageing. Show all posts

Friday, 15 May 2020

Lockdown Ageing; Facebook, how very DARE you?

This morning Facebook decided to offer me the option to see their screen differently via a beta layout they are providing.   It was going to be easier for me to navigate, they said.  Things would be easier to find, they said.  The text would be BIGGER, they said.

I became instantly suspicious; were they making this offer because of my age?  At 53 am I now considered to be so old that I need the interweb to be made more accessible to me?  Has Lockdown impacted on me even more visibly than I previously thought?

It wouldn't be so bad if there was no merit in their suggestion, but I'm aware that the last couple of months have not been kind to me, physically.  There is the unavoidable fact of my jeans becoming noticeably tighter on the one day of the week I force myself into them - the result of too little exercise and too many fxck-it glasses of wine - and let's face it, I need a haircut.  Not tomorrow, not yesterday, but about a month ago.  Has fb been snooping and drawing it's own conclusions? 

If they have, there is the remote possibility that they may have heard me muttering about on-screen images getting harder to see.  They may have noticed I have increased the size of the font I use here, or that the best time of day for me to look at images on my phone is in the evening, just before I go to bed, when - crucially - I have taken my contact lenses out.   They may even - gasp - have seen the photo I sent to a WhatsApp group of girlfriends yesterday, showing my in-dire-need-of-attention too-long and increasingly-grey hair...

Obviously, I took a look at the new layout, and it does what it says on the tin.  Bigger text.  A simpler layout.  Easier to navigate.  You know, accessible.

But none of the above is of any interest to me because I am not old.  I have no need of this new dashboard.  I have, therefore, declined their offer and reverted to Facebook Classic (the one that has smaller text and a more complicated layout.  No, of course it isn't only because of the principle of the thing). 

Even though, deep down, I suspect I have cut off my nose to spite my own face.

'Rage, rage, against the dying of the light' and all that...

Friday, 25 March 2011

Me, Lady GaGa, and the great age debate

On the way home from school today;

Boy #1: "Lady GaGa is really rich, isn't she?"

Me: " Yes, I suppose she probably is."

Boy #1: "She's a rich, old, woman."

I nearly crash the car. "She's not old! Lady GaGa is younger than I am! Who told you she was old?"

Boy #1: "N did. He said, she's this reeeally old woman."

Boy #2: "How old IS she?"

I take a wild guess. "I don't know... 24 or 25, maybe?"

Horrified intakes of breath from the back seat.

Boy #2: "That's REALLY old... How old are you?"

Me: "I'm 44. Which is much more than Lady GaGa. Does that make me really old too?"

Cue diplomatic silence. Then;

Boy #1: "Maybe her birthday is before yours in the year, Mama. That makes her older thanyou, really..."

I'll go with that.


Note: with sincere apologies to Lady GaGa...