Jenny Joseph would understand
When I'm an old woman, I shall wear a fake beard
And tuck my saggy breasts into the waistline of my pants,
So that I may finally have some respect.
When my beauty fades and my wrinkles have wrinkles,
I will smoke on my pipe and tell distorted tales of my adventures
In which no one will challenge.
And instead of pointing out my faulty memory,
Fathers will turn to their sons and say:
Listen to him for his words are wise.
When I pass my societal prime,
I will be a grump.
I won’t smile past 82,
But still people will not call me an old hag
Or say my age has made me bitter.
Instead they will remember my anger with fondness in their hearts,
And say I hardened like stone on a mighty mountain.
When I’m an old woman, I want to be an old man.
Then I’ll finally get some respect.