for the first time i realized that i’m getting old. no, really realized it. i’m doing stuff like remembering (and talking about) events from 30 years ago as if they just happened a few years ago. i’m remembering stuffing my brain cells full of a whole heap of “revolutionary” computer programming that no one needs to know anymore because it can be done with the click of a mouse. i’m trying to figure out what im supposed to say instead of ‘cool’. i’m quoting prices from 1980 and grousing about the lost value of a dollar (and contemplating giving my kids $5 as a birthday gift). i’m seeing things in the high end clothing stores that i donated to goodwill twenty years ago.
of course a lot of this is helped along by me celebrating another birthday and my husband’s (albeit clever comment) that my age is now a speed limit (reference sammy hagar song). it’s not just the remark, it’s remembering like it was yesterday that sammy hagar song. only it was a hit with in 1984.
a whole bunch of things made me feel crotchety this week. fashion blogs where models were 12 years old and looked like sticks. fashion blogs for women over 50 where most posts were about cholesterol, cancer and wrinkle creams instead of cute shoes and cool trends. wtf! (i need authority to revoke some people’s blog licenses) an article in the wall street journal (okay, truthfully wsj makes me feel crotchety, but for different reasons) about how kids are so hard on a marriage. no kidding (you going to be satisfied with yelling at strangers when you get old?!)
and then there was a bright spot in julia baird’s tuesday column in the philadelphia inquirer (with the terrible title of “the beastly notion of keeping beautiful”) that puts beauty (and consequently what aging women do to try to ‘maintain’ beauty) in perspective. i won’t spoil it by paraphrasing. here’s the link.
so what’s the end all of this? just another in what will prove to be a series of feeling old moments. but hey, i’m still a decade younger than sammy hagar. so there.