You’re Only As Old As (Things Make You) Feel

bikini beach

And, okay, so this is not exactly how I go to the beach these days. Now, for example, my camera is digital.

People say they don’t feel whatever age they are. I get that. I look in the mirror, mentally taking note of myself on the morning of my birthday. I slip into the same clothes I wore yesterday, or last winter, or the year my oldest daughter was born. 53 doesn’t feel any different than 52, which didn’t feel any different than 51, etc. etc. I still like to dance. I can be silly, especially during faculty meetings when it is impossible not to whisper comments under my breath to my colleagues. I’ve been known to throw a recent tantrum or two. I haven’t ever cured myself of my fear of spiders. I will treat myself to a frosted gingerbread man at the grocery store.

Of course, people also say: It’s not the number! These are people whose own numbers are greater than, say, 40. But it really isn’t 53 that makes me feel old; it’s any one of the following:

  • My daughters sing songs whose lyrics offend me, or
  • I say, “How can you like this song? I can’t understand a word they’re saying.”
  • My students don’t get my references to: Jeffrey Dahmer; quarter to an hour; the Royal “we”; Seinfeld; drinking the Kool Aid. Kool Aid.
  • I wear American Eagle jeans (because otherwise I would have spent hours in the store doing nothing while my daughters shopped) and my students say, “Oh my god! You’re wearing American Eagle jeans!”
  • I hate backing out of parking spaces.
  • I have to scroll down, and keep scrolling, and scroll a little more on the pull down menu to enter the year of my birth.
  • Immediately after getting my hair cut and colored, I run several errands in very crowded places where I meet dozens of people I know and I’m feeling pretty good-looking except that as soon as I get home, I notice that my sideburns are painted so black, I look like a very amateur Elvis impersonator. Like a very old, amateur Elvis impersonator.
  • Mornings, when I first stand on my ankles, they hurt.
  • Mornings, when I wonder why my butt is so sore, I hope it’s because the day before I did a few squats. But then I realize: Nope. Just pulled a few weeds.
  • I panic when I don’t have a pair of reading glasses (except, of course, the ones on my head).
  • When I get my alumni magazine and flip to the back page to catch up on Class News, I discover that my graduating class’s column has moved much closer to the centerfold.
  • I suggest someone rent the DVD.
  • I always forget to click the full screen option.
  • When I am finally reminded to click full screen, I fail to move the cursor off the full screen so that it points directly into the actor’s nostril.
  • Autocorrect.
  • Autoformat.
  • Texting with any kind of speed or accuracy BUT being able to type without looking at the keys! (Thank you, 7th grade typing teacher with her ASDFJKL: space drills and Christmas tree puzzles).
  • Y2K feels like something that happened in the 80’s.
  • I have no idea what kind of shoes to wear with skinny jeans.
  • I wear clogs. I like clogs.
  • One of my students says, “Hey, did you know that there was once a skater from Massachusetts who was attacked by another skater right before the Olympics?” His classmates gasp and say, “NO! What happened?” and he says, “Well, it was a long time ago.”
  • Everyone adheres to random rules of capitalization. Also, of the apostrophe.
  • I realize how many times I tell my family to look at how cute the cat is.
  • The doctor walks into the examining room and I say, “Christ, Doogie Howser,” and s/he says, “Who?”
  • I tell people I don’t drink water and they warn me how close I am to death and I say, “We didn’t have water when I was a kid.”
  • My former students turn 40.
  • My former students turn 47.
  • Some of my friends are grandparents.
  • No cat in my neighborhood ever has a litter of kittens.
  • I can’t recognize people in the photos from my latest high school reunion. In fact, I can’t even remember who was in my class in high school.
  • I wonder whatever happened to Riunite. To Boone’s Farm. To Red, White, and Blue Beer. To Peppermint Schnapps. To Zarex.
  • I understand that it’s really true: Things do come back in style (legwarmers?!).
  • Tattoos have no allure. None. Zero. Not for free. Not if someone gave me four million dollars to get one. Not if they’re on an impossibly bulging bicep. (Bulging biceps do still have an allure but it feels very creepy to admit this.)
  • In certain restaurants, it is impossible to see the menu.
  • I pluck my eyebrows all by myself. Look, kids: No waxing!
  • I can eat gluten.
  • I LIKE the skirt on my bathing suit, thank-you very much.
  • Movies are, like, really, really loud.
  • I will drive quite a distance for 100 percent cotton underwear whose lines might or might not be visible through my pants.
  • I hear other adults saying things like, “That’s a force,” and I cringe.
  • I think, “That’s a force,” is a really stupid thing to say even if you’re not an adult.
  • I get up to go to work and my RETIRED husband doesn’t.
  • My RETIRED husband does the grocery shopping.
  • My RETIRED husband.
  • No one in my friend group is ever too broke to do stuff. Just too tired.
  • I haven’t bought a really sparkly party dress in a long, long time. Long time.
  • And even if I did, I’d have to wear it with my clogs.
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4 thoughts on “You’re Only As Old As (Things Make You) Feel

  1. Thanks for the AM laugh! Well said!

    I might add… I’m proud when I see my (aged) friends have their phone font large than mine.

    A patient tells me during our initial eval, “you should get bifocals!” Because I can’t see those tiny black numbers against their black pants when measuring their knee range.

    🙂

    Like

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