I HAD A CHILD AT 44. It pretty much defines the last half of my life. Not her fault. However, I also had a child at 40 which would be old if it weren't for the child at 44. Seems to be a trend here ;)
Last week, The Nice Kid, who is 15, had homecoming. Each day, they dressed in different character...Disney, favorite decade, OLD PEOPLE.
Read something not too long ago and it asked, "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" and my first thought was...21. No lie. Still have places to go and things to do and...haven't done them yet. Getting around to it, just taking the circuitous route...LIKE MY EDUCATION!! I started college summers when I was 16, on a program for gifted children (this was 1972, no such thing as AP) and...since I was so damn smart...finally graduated when I was 32. Scenic tour.
Such is my path.
So it's Old People Day at school and YES...I'm guessing there was a nicer name but I don't remember it ;)...and we are frantically gathering up something to wear. Thankfully, Grandmother had left one of those gawd-awful Christmas sweaters over here...all covered in scenes and cute things and bell buttons. Worked great.
Except, everything else? WAS. MINE.
Mine.
Denim capris. There comes a time (wait...side story here. About three years ago we were all at my buddy's house for July 4th, when one of our friends older ((by 18 months)) sister came by. Keep in mind, this is a small town and our parents all grew up and went to school together and our grandparents are buried in the same cemetery. So Debbie-The-ExCheerleader, who still tries on her high school cheerleader uniform every Christmas to make sure she hasn't changed, stopped by. Now, she's been in a gym five days a week for the past 35 years, and she only had one kid, and she is genetically gifted, BUT. Bikini. Navel piercing. Serious tan. And as my little brother, who was "only" 42, pointed out, "I don't care how good her muscles are? That skin's been hanging there for 50 years.")
Denim capris. Comes a time when 2/3 of the planet considers you physically repulsive. Believe it or not, that's about 35. Deal with it. So at 50 I ditched the shorts and started wearing capris when I was out in public. Most of the time. So TNK gets my denim capris for her outfit.
Then? My Skecher Shape-ups. MY COOL SHOES! Nope...only old people wear Shape-ups.
Ankle socks.
Powdered her hair grey. Took one of my crocheted totes, put yarn and knitting needles in it and...off she went.
Only thing that wasn't mine was the sweater.
So I've been laughing about it all week because...come on. How ridiculous is this? I'm not OLD...I still haven't been to Paris! Or Ireland! Haven't run a marathon! These bumps and warts are superficial...nothing to do with ME!! Right?
And then this morning, I was buying milk and bread and...I bought a glasses chain. Because I'm sick of The Big Boy swiping my reading glasses and I want one decent pair to have most of the time.
When I got home and realized? Glasses chain.
Glasses chain.
Oh. My.
This mid-life crisis is going to hit, and it's going to hit hard. I have moments where I consider alternatives and then...I sit down until the urge goes away. But I'm getting worried...you read about people like me. Boring, responsible, functional people who all of a sudden buy a red car and grow a mustache.
Do you think a mustache would make me look fat?
Last week, The Nice Kid, who is 15, had homecoming. Each day, they dressed in different character...Disney, favorite decade, OLD PEOPLE.
Read something not too long ago and it asked, "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" and my first thought was...21. No lie. Still have places to go and things to do and...haven't done them yet. Getting around to it, just taking the circuitous route...LIKE MY EDUCATION!! I started college summers when I was 16, on a program for gifted children (this was 1972, no such thing as AP) and...since I was so damn smart...finally graduated when I was 32. Scenic tour.
Such is my path.
So it's Old People Day at school and YES...I'm guessing there was a nicer name but I don't remember it ;)...and we are frantically gathering up something to wear. Thankfully, Grandmother had left one of those gawd-awful Christmas sweaters over here...all covered in scenes and cute things and bell buttons. Worked great.
Except, everything else? WAS. MINE.
Mine.
Denim capris. There comes a time (wait...side story here. About three years ago we were all at my buddy's house for July 4th, when one of our friends older ((by 18 months)) sister came by. Keep in mind, this is a small town and our parents all grew up and went to school together and our grandparents are buried in the same cemetery. So Debbie-The-ExCheerleader, who still tries on her high school cheerleader uniform every Christmas to make sure she hasn't changed, stopped by. Now, she's been in a gym five days a week for the past 35 years, and she only had one kid, and she is genetically gifted, BUT. Bikini. Navel piercing. Serious tan. And as my little brother, who was "only" 42, pointed out, "I don't care how good her muscles are? That skin's been hanging there for 50 years.")
Denim capris. Comes a time when 2/3 of the planet considers you physically repulsive. Believe it or not, that's about 35. Deal with it. So at 50 I ditched the shorts and started wearing capris when I was out in public. Most of the time. So TNK gets my denim capris for her outfit.
Then? My Skecher Shape-ups. MY COOL SHOES! Nope...only old people wear Shape-ups.
Ankle socks.
Powdered her hair grey. Took one of my crocheted totes, put yarn and knitting needles in it and...off she went.
Only thing that wasn't mine was the sweater.
So I've been laughing about it all week because...come on. How ridiculous is this? I'm not OLD...I still haven't been to Paris! Or Ireland! Haven't run a marathon! These bumps and warts are superficial...nothing to do with ME!! Right?
And then this morning, I was buying milk and bread and...I bought a glasses chain. Because I'm sick of The Big Boy swiping my reading glasses and I want one decent pair to have most of the time.
When I got home and realized? Glasses chain.
Glasses chain.
Oh. My.
This mid-life crisis is going to hit, and it's going to hit hard. I have moments where I consider alternatives and then...I sit down until the urge goes away. But I'm getting worried...you read about people like me. Boring, responsible, functional people who all of a sudden buy a red car and grow a mustache.
Do you think a mustache would make me look fat?
Comments
Glasses chain...Oh, honey, I say this with love in my heart: You need to go bury that thing in the back yard alongside all the dearly departed pets. Seriously. Go. Now.
So they're your mullet capris?
Cool in the front, geriatric in the back? Bury them with the chain.