Do you ever have those moments, when you're looking at yourself in the mirror, and you realize...yep, I'm not 26 any more. I mean, really, I know it, I do. But sometimes I wish I could see myself from someone else's eyes. What do I look like to someone else? Honestly, I quit looking at myself...literally looking at myself, in the mirror, ages ago. I don't like to. I look at parts. My eyelids to put on make up, my legs to shave, and my hair to curl it. But not the whole. I'm scared to. I know I won't like what I see, but more than that, I don't want to look at myself and see that I've aged.
I've had hints, I know you all see them too, that famous lead singer that you lusted over as a teen, they make the news and you think, "My god! What happened to him? He's so OLD!" Granted, they may have lived a harder life, but then you realize, if they're that old, what does that make me? (Jon Bon Jovi is still hot though, don't get me wrong).
You find yourself reevaluating what you consider sexy. No longer is it the rock singer with long hair, but someone who wears a suit and has a bit of salt and pepper in their hair. Sometimes it's the "before" picture in the "Rogaine" commercials for men. I no longer fantasize about someone with a rock hard body, because I know in my heart of hearts, that I would no longer compete with the women he has available to him (this is all a fantasy, I'm perfectly happy in my married life). Not only that, but I know the rock singer is not stable and would not be a good father figure for my children. Pathetic, right?
My oldest was mad about something the other day, and I actually told him that if he didn't quit frowning, he would have a wrinkle between his eyebrows as deep as mine. See? He immediately quit. Nothing like scaring your kid with reality.
Other signs that I'm actually growing old:
I don't wear thong underwear any more. Honestly, it didn't bother me at one time, now it's comfort over any possibility of someone seeing me with a string up my ass and thinking it's sexy. Like that's going to happen.
My pajamas are a cotton blend that have three-quarter sleeves and reach below my knees. Nothing is see-through, nothing is silk, and more often than not, the top is the ratty T-shirt I was wearing that day minus the bra.
Speaking of bras, I buy a bigger cup size because I have to manually scoop up any extra arm and/or back fat into the cup while leaning over when I put my brazier on. The straps are wider because I tighten them to hoist up the fat and make my boobs look perky.
I do a little happy dance when I'm carded and totally ignore the, "WE CARD EVERYBODY" neon sign in the window.
The panther I had tattooed around my ankle now looks like a Shynx.
I pee myself a little when ever I cough, sneeze, or laugh too hard.
I could actually live without cellphone for 24 hours and not miss it.
I saw the original "Footloose" movie and consider it blasphemy that they want to do a remake.
I know how to dance with another person and it involves holding hands, spins, and actual footwork.
My kids find it hilarious that my skin wobbles on the backside of my bicep and will actually call friends over to watch and see how funny it is.
"Fame" was the only TV show that incorporated singing and dancing.
I can cook a hotdog without a microwave.
I have long hair and enjoy it, I don't so much enjoy that I now have to look for a chin hair that managed to grow over an inch while I was sleeping.
I don't even remember what color my hair is naturally, but I do know that when I grow roots, I don't find gray hairs, but PURE WHITE. What the hell? Don't I get some transition time?
My favorite radio station with the songs that I can sing all the words to, is called a "classical" station.
Retro fashion was my fashion. I'm afraid to throw anything away because it WILL make a comeback. Hairstyle on boys today? We used to call them the "Beatles." You're nothing new Justin Beber or whatever your name is.
I clean my house thoroughly if I'm going to be gone for more than a day, because I DO care what the police will think if they need to search my house for clues.
I record "Dr. Oz" because I can relate.
I'm afraid to attempt a cartwheel or even run, because I could twist an ankle and I will feel it every time the weather changes for the rest of my life.
I will not allow my son to have a turtle as a pet because it just may outlive me.
I have a "tramp stamp" tattoo, but I'm 99% sure that they should call it something else if it's on a woman over 40, and if I actually owned a pair a jeans that allowed that to be seen, it just may elicit some "eewwws" from the observer. By the way, all my jeans now incorporate a comfort waist band and some sort of tummy panel.
I now think of 60 as young.
If I have extra money, which is never, I linger at the "under eye" make-up section of the pharmacy (yes pharmacy) rather than the eye shadow section.
But I so want to still consider myself young. In my head I'm still in my 20s even though my body constantly reminds me that I'm not. I'm tired easier, I worry about certain aches and pains and what they could mean. But that doesn't stop me from going down the water slide with my kids, chasing them as the "bad guy" in spy games, or dressing up to go trick-or-treating.
You're only as old as you think you are...oh crap, I forgot how I was going to end this.
I've had hints, I know you all see them too, that famous lead singer that you lusted over as a teen, they make the news and you think, "My god! What happened to him? He's so OLD!" Granted, they may have lived a harder life, but then you realize, if they're that old, what does that make me? (Jon Bon Jovi is still hot though, don't get me wrong).
 |
| David Cassidy...what a heart throb then. |
 |
| Okay, he's not horrible now, but kind of looks like he needs to be on a sitcom of some sort. |
You find yourself reevaluating what you consider sexy. No longer is it the rock singer with long hair, but someone who wears a suit and has a bit of salt and pepper in their hair. Sometimes it's the "before" picture in the "Rogaine" commercials for men. I no longer fantasize about someone with a rock hard body, because I know in my heart of hearts, that I would no longer compete with the women he has available to him (this is all a fantasy, I'm perfectly happy in my married life). Not only that, but I know the rock singer is not stable and would not be a good father figure for my children. Pathetic, right?
My oldest was mad about something the other day, and I actually told him that if he didn't quit frowning, he would have a wrinkle between his eyebrows as deep as mine. See? He immediately quit. Nothing like scaring your kid with reality.
Other signs that I'm actually growing old:
I don't wear thong underwear any more. Honestly, it didn't bother me at one time, now it's comfort over any possibility of someone seeing me with a string up my ass and thinking it's sexy. Like that's going to happen.
My pajamas are a cotton blend that have three-quarter sleeves and reach below my knees. Nothing is see-through, nothing is silk, and more often than not, the top is the ratty T-shirt I was wearing that day minus the bra.
Speaking of bras, I buy a bigger cup size because I have to manually scoop up any extra arm and/or back fat into the cup while leaning over when I put my brazier on. The straps are wider because I tighten them to hoist up the fat and make my boobs look perky.
 |
| I'm pretty sure that's at least 3 cup sizes. |
The panther I had tattooed around my ankle now looks like a Shynx.
I pee myself a little when ever I cough, sneeze, or laugh too hard.
I could actually live without cellphone for 24 hours and not miss it.
I saw the original "Footloose" movie and consider it blasphemy that they want to do a remake.
 |
| I'm sorry, but no one could nail this like Kevin Bacon. |
I know how to dance with another person and it involves holding hands, spins, and actual footwork.
My kids find it hilarious that my skin wobbles on the backside of my bicep and will actually call friends over to watch and see how funny it is.
"Fame" was the only TV show that incorporated singing and dancing.
I can cook a hotdog without a microwave.
I have long hair and enjoy it, I don't so much enjoy that I now have to look for a chin hair that managed to grow over an inch while I was sleeping.
I don't even remember what color my hair is naturally, but I do know that when I grow roots, I don't find gray hairs, but PURE WHITE. What the hell? Don't I get some transition time?
My favorite radio station with the songs that I can sing all the words to, is called a "classical" station.
Retro fashion was my fashion. I'm afraid to throw anything away because it WILL make a comeback. Hairstyle on boys today? We used to call them the "Beatles." You're nothing new Justin Beber or whatever your name is.
I clean my house thoroughly if I'm going to be gone for more than a day, because I DO care what the police will think if they need to search my house for clues.
I record "Dr. Oz" because I can relate.
I'm afraid to attempt a cartwheel or even run, because I could twist an ankle and I will feel it every time the weather changes for the rest of my life.
I will not allow my son to have a turtle as a pet because it just may outlive me.
I have a "tramp stamp" tattoo, but I'm 99% sure that they should call it something else if it's on a woman over 40, and if I actually owned a pair a jeans that allowed that to be seen, it just may elicit some "eewwws" from the observer. By the way, all my jeans now incorporate a comfort waist band and some sort of tummy panel.
I now think of 60 as young.
If I have extra money, which is never, I linger at the "under eye" make-up section of the pharmacy (yes pharmacy) rather than the eye shadow section.
But I so want to still consider myself young. In my head I'm still in my 20s even though my body constantly reminds me that I'm not. I'm tired easier, I worry about certain aches and pains and what they could mean. But that doesn't stop me from going down the water slide with my kids, chasing them as the "bad guy" in spy games, or dressing up to go trick-or-treating.
You're only as old as you think you are...oh crap, I forgot how I was going to end this.
