I’ve always been mistaken for being younger than I am. People are surprised when they hear that my age is north of 40 these days. I frequently get grouped into the younger–but not too young moms. Maybe it is because my kids are still so young. Or maybe it’s because I inherited REALLY good skin.
But here’s the thing. I’m starting to feel my age. It takes a little longer to get out of bed in the morning–even with a four month old alarm clock in the next room. And those areas around my eyes that used to just crumple then flatten when I laughed and smiled are starting to perpetually look like a t-shirt left in the dryer for two days too long. I’ve been dabbling in SnapChat but I’m pretty sure that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. This was verified when I was texted to say that I shouldn’t be sending snaps and posting them to my story as well. What does that even mean?! And why doesn’t SnapChat have some sort of instruction manual?!
I. Feel. Old.
I remember hanging out at my favorite watering holes as a cool gal of 26 or so thinking I owned the world. There were these women that hung out there, too. One was named Sharon, I think. They were a little flashy with large graphic prints before LLR was a thing. They wore too much makeup and loud shirts. They seems desperate and dated. They were stuck in a time about 15 years prior.
I, on the other hand, preferred to be understated in my classic black or metallic sleeveless (or cowl neck depending on the season) top. I may have added a muted animal print purse because–didn’t we all? My perpetual smokey eye and extra glossy lips highlighted my…well…highlights.
If I were to go out to the same watering holes today, you know, if they hadn’t been replaced long ago, I would be one of those desperate looking women trying to recapture her youth and there would be a crew of new 26 year old gals looking at me with sad eyes thinking I was trying too hard with my tunic tops and loud leggings (Shut up. They are comfortable).
What would I even order? Are jagerbombs even a thing anymore?! How about red headed sluts? Do people order those? Beer never goes out of style, does it?!
See what I mean? I would be lost. And guess what. I. Don’t. Care. I’m happy where my life has taken me. It’s been an unpredictable ride, to say the least. And that’s OK. I don’t have the energy for the hangover anyway.
I am writing for the Two Writing Teachers March Writing Challenge