Getting older.
It seems like there should be some sort of magical thing that happens to you when you have a birthday. Like, a fairy godmother should appear out of nowhere and present you with a pearl of wisdom that you really need. Or a plaque, to commemorate something that you’re proud of, such as: Congratulations on finally clearing out the garage! Or perhaps she could point out to you where that thing you lost is (in the couch, even though you looked there twice). These would be super helpful gifts. Especially the pearl of wisdom one. Sometimes I think, huh, another year has gone by, and I still make the same stupid mistakes. But stubbornly, I hold on to those mistakes, thinking they are a part of what makes me, ME. In others words, I might be too dumb to do anything else than what I’ve always done. Because it’s supposed to be older and wiser, right? Not older, and just effing older, not smarter in the least? (But the adage isn’t the same if it reads: Older and just as stupid). If this sounds like you, don’t worry. I think this might be everyone. But here are a few of the things I have discovered about myself as I grow older…
- I am out of touch, man. I used to think I had a handle on things that were happening in the world. I listened to radio, read the news, I knew about some underground bands or some art happenings and even participated in some. But now? I heard about a Japanese musician that is actually just a hologram, and that people around the world send her lyrics and songs for her to perform, and they all hold glow sticks and sing with her to her favorite hits….I mean, this is not a person. What happens if the power gets cut? She vaporizes…! And…what the shit. I think this is awesome and also super creepy. And its for young people who use words like “cosplay” (which sounds sexual but really just means people who like to dress up in costumes and go someplace). Duuude. I’m old. I never have to use the word cosplay. (Hatsune Miku… go ahead and youtube)
- I’ve become one of those people who thinks they might call the hydro company because the power cords in front of their house are bigger, and hang low, and now obstruct the view from the front. The sad part is, they could have done this a few years ago. But now that I have noticed, I don’t like it! I want to call someone and complain! You know what this means? This means I am old!
- Sometimes I throw small tubes of cream in my purse for the inevitable time I will need it on my hands, elbows, or whatever other part that is like the Saharan desert of my body that day. I will use these whenever I think no one is watching. And then sometimes I’ll forget and just start slathering the crap on when I’m with someone. I will stop when I notice that they are staring. Then I will look at the little tube I’ve been using on my face, and notice it says “HEEL CRACK CREAM.” I will smile, laugh and abruptly point to something else and scurry away like a crab. Or an old person. Which I now obviously am. This has happened more than once.
- I will buy things on the $5 rack of the super-sale items at the department store. I mean, we all know that the only reason they are selling things for five dollars is that it would cost more to dispose of the damn thing than sell it for that, so go ahead, yes, you forty four year-old woman, buy that periwinkle knitted mini skirt that you think you should wear ironically, but then don’t. It will stare back at you from the closet and whisper “I might have been five dollars, but that doesn’t mean I should ever have been purchased, unless you were freezing, and wanted to cover, oh I dunno, your head maybe, because don’t you remember? You can’t do mini skirts. Not even ironically.” I will furrow my brow and wonder why the mini skirt is talking to me. One day soon I’ll place it in the Salvation Army bin, for some seventeen year-old to find and wear totally un-ironically. Dammit!
- The most pleasurable thing in my life is reaching that itch between my two shoulder blades, right where the bra hinge digs in, a little to the left, right over there….aggghhhh. If I reach it and successfully scratch the shit out of it, I am really really happy. No person should find something like this makes them so happy. But, my standards have fallen a bit. A sign of getting older. Sometimes it really is about the small things.
- I say things like “Yeah, I’m still trying to lose the baby weight” to someone I don’t know very well. And then they’ll ask how old my kids are and I’ll say eight and eleven and then laugh hilariously like I think I’m the funniest thing in the world. But the sad part is I’m still telling myself this. Losin’ the baby weight. Yup. It’s just coming off very, very slowly.
But all in all the getting older thing doesn’t phase me too much. Sure my kids ask me why I’m mad all the time, because I have bitchy resting face. Sadly, it’s just my face, I have crappy skin. And sure, I’m sad that in the gym I’m the one shucking and jiving to the disco that they have re-mastered into a new and catchy workout routine. Because I can remember hearing that shit on the radio growing up, and I know it by heart! Whoo hoo! I’m really digging it! And that is so not cool.
Oh well. So, I’m older. Less cool, possibly dumber, out of touch, with bad taste and stupid humor. I look angry and my pants don’t fit. But the bright side? There’s hope for me yet.
I can appreciate the small things in life.