The other day I was headed out the door with the kids when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was like, “Whoa, nelly. Where do you think you’re going with no makeup on, Grandma?” Because, see, now that I’m an old fogey I don’t have the option of going out in just my face. So I made the kids stand by the door and wait while I ran up to my bathroom to throw on some concealer and mascara to wake things up a little bit. Know what I found when I got upstairs? I already had concealer and mascara on. It just wasn’t enough to disguise the terrible things that time, child rearing, and staying up late reading have done to my face. (Plus, I’m apparently getting senile.)
Kill. Me. Now.
The thing is I’m turning 31 this week. And, I don’t know, it just feels wrong. And waaaaaay older than 30. Like, maybe it’s time to start acting like a grownup or something? (You know, since I obviously look like one.)
And I don’t mean to be that cliched female bemoaning her lost youth, but… well, I do kind of feel like bemoaning sometimes.
But there are good things about getting older, right? Right? Like, maybe a little perspective?
I’ll keep you posted, young’uns.
I don’t think you’ll ever be old no matter how old you get.
Aww, thanks Mom! If I look like you in twenty years I will be one happy camper.
You make me laugh. You’ve got great genes so don’t worry about it. Your mom never seems to age a day. And your dad got a much better mix of Hurst genes than I did. I started going gray in college and when I was out to lunch with my elderly, Black, visiting teaching companion for my birthday once, she asked how old I was. I said “47”. She exclaimed, “I thought you was at least 60!”. I got asked if I wanted the senior discount while still in my 30s. That was truly depressing. And I wasn’t even asked by a teenager that thinks everyone looks ancient. The most disturbing part was that I looked 12 well into adulthood and then suddenly turned into a senior citizen overnight. But at last I’m old enough that I don’t have to be offended when someone asks about my grandchildren (whom Mollie and Megan were always assumed to be). Erin is also turning 31 soon and she’s had to dye her hair for years. Love your writing. You are hilarious.
Thanks Aunt Debbie! You’re funny. We’re only as old as (our friends make us) we feel, right? I remember my dad counting down the days till he would get the senior discount at Denny’s. Weirdo. In my next life I want to be a dude.
That was not I counting the days, it was Debbie. I don’t even like Denny’s, but I ate there the other day and didn’t think of the senior discount. I wonder if it’s too late…
Dad, you are a lier and a half. You were definitely counting down the days till the senior discount somewhere! I really thought it was Denny’s!
Seriously, Emily?! Old? You’re funny 🙂 Oh, and don’t ever start acting like a grown up. It’s no fun. Happy Birthday!
Ha ha thanks, Peggy! I like the quote, “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap!”
Old? No. Senile? NO. Modest and funny? Yes! Don’t worry about it, Emily. You’re just fine the way you are. Plus, that’s what you had children for: to weather you! In 20 years you’ll be weather-beaten, windswept, and radiant with the love that surrounds you. It’s all worth it. (As a plus, in 20 years, you won’t have to fuss with mascara etc., because the older you get, the better you’ll look “au naturelle”)!
Thanks Mike! I used to work with a lady (she was in her fifties at the time) who would always tease me about caring too much. Her opinion was the older you get the happier you get because the less you care. From worrying about my hair to whether I had accidentally offended the bagel delivery guy – she’d just shake her head and say, “You’ll see.” I’m not there yet, but I hope I will be someday! Thanks for your kind words!
Yeah I see the senile.:)
I know, right? I miss my brain.