The politically correct version of me should be against all forms of ageism and publicly champion every elderly, fit person on the planet. If you’re 20 – 40 years my senior yet out run, out asana or even out walk me, I should put my pride down and tell you how fabulous you are.

I really should. You deserve it. Good for you that you continue to put your health, wellness and fitness first.

But this blog isn’t about being nice, it’s about how often I fail and I’ve gotta be honest. When you jog past me and my cane with your tight ass while wearing well fitting yoga pants to open the door for me as I leave Starbucks, I sort of hate you. Just a little.

There. I said it.

I know you’re being kind and helpful and I doubt very much that you’re trying to rub my disability in my face. But it stings.

So starting today, I hereby promise that when I see you coming to help me with the door:

Instead of thinking this:

Or this:

I’ll be more like this: