Old, old wooden ship

So it’s official.

I’m old.

I knew 27 was going to be borderline… I mean, I’m now in my late twenties. It’s funny how that works. 20-23, you are in your early twenties. 24-26 are mid and then starting with 27… you’re in your late twenties. There is no MID about 27. I mean, we might as well just round-up and call ourselves pre-thirty.

To be honest, although I joke that I’m getting old, I hadn’t really given it TOO much thought until the world started throwing it in my face! All of the sudden it’s as if the world is telling me to run inside and get a face lift! I mean, lately I’m hung over no matter what I do. I get tired before 2am. I find myself in pj’s on Saturday nights. I hardly make any reckless decisions… it’s just like “ok world… I see what you’re trying to say!”

But before I go into that, I have to say that there is one un-ignorable ‘clock’ that has been ticking away, louder and louder each year, since about age 24, but I am hoping to quite that down here soon enough. And yet something tells me, even when I do become a mother… I’m not going to feel any younger.

But regardless…

The first time I knew I was officially getting old was back in Texas. I kind of talked about this in my Sept. 11th blog but it bares repeating. When Burny was in tech school in San Angelo, you can imagine that it was flooded with 18-year-old kids, fresh out of high school. Burny and I were in our mid twenties still at that point, so we were the old kids on the block. I mean, it was really a struggle to think of what to do with people who couldn’t go to bars. What did I used to do? I couldn’t think of a single thing!

It was during a conversation with these underage kids that I realized, they were in 6th grade when Sept. 11th happened. They could hardly remember it! I was in college. If that doesn’t make you feel like you are in a whole different generation, I don’t know what will.

A while after we moved home from Texas, I performed in the musical: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I was actually asked to join the chorus after casting because they were short on voices so when I went to the first reading, I was painfully aware of that fact that I was going to fall into a weird age bracket.

There were the 15-year-old, high school kids playing Tom Sawyer, and his friends. There were the adults in their 50’s cast to play the parents of said kids… and then there was me. The twenty something who didn’t fit in either group. Too old to be a kid… to young to be old.

I sat down next to a girl who seemed to have found herself in the same predicament. She was quietly sitting on her own and she looked to be about my same age. I was relieved to see that I wouldn’t be the only one feeling out of place.

As we began to read through the script, I struck up a bit of a whispered conversation between myself and the twenty something next to me. We were both chorus so we didn’t have any lines. We were just there for looks basically.

About half way through the reading I realized that the story line in the play was strikingly similar to the movie plot of the 1990’s film: Tom and Huck.

I leaned over to share my findings with my new, twenty something friend. I said, “This play is exactly like the movie ‘Tom and Huck’.”

“What movie?” she asked.

Clearly she just hadn’t heard me. ‘Tom and Huck’ was a pretty well-known movie when I was in jr. high school. Namely because of its leading actor: Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

I leaned back into her and said, “‘Tom and Huck’ with JTT!”

And then she said something that just BRANDED my age so plainly across my forehead that I could feel the burn…

“Who is JTT?”

Say WHAT?

Who is JTT??? Come on! I mean, how do you describe who JTT is without a BOP magazine for evidence. I have to admit that it did occur to me at that point that BOP magazine likely no longer existed, and that didn’t help my cause much.

I said his full name to her in one final hope for recognition but it was clear to me. She wasn’t my age at all. There was just no possible way.

“He was in Home Improvement,” I tried…

Still nothing. Not one ounce of recognition in her face. Not even for ‘Tim the Tool Man Taylor.’

Finally, after a few minutes of consideration she came back and slapped me in the face again…

“I think I’ve seen re-runs of that show. Which one is JTT?”

I just left it alone. I couldn’t explain it. There was no point. I asked her age. 17. Sigh. She looked so mature…

The final blow came just the other night. I mean, there have been several ‘you’re getting old’ moments in my life since turning 25, but this one the other night really sealed the deal. I believe it’s official now and I’m not quite sure what to do with it.

I’m 27 now, obviously. I went to a Halloween party on Friday dressed as a Red Headed Slut. Burny went as Mike’s Hard Lemonade:

I have to tell you that when discussing costumes with my 23-year-old friend she said: “I’m too old to be slutty for Halloween.”

Hmm… perhaps I should have reconsidered my costume at that point, but instead I decided that I looked dang good! Not just for 27 but for any age! I was going to celebrate that! I was going to be slutty! I was going to wear my boots and show cleavage and I was going to rock it out! And that is just what I did.

So, once at the party I quickly realized that married couples must not regularly go out. Everyone was asking me if Burny was my boyfriend…

“You could say that.”

We’ve been married for 2 1/2 years… it’s just not something I’ve been asked in a while. And then the real kicker happened…

I was talking with this girl about make up. I had never met her before and I guessed (correctly this time) that she was probably in her early twenties. She mentioned college and I said something back about ‘when I was in college’ and then she looked at me very strangely…

“How old are you?” She asked appalled. I mean, it wasn’t like she was a young guy I was trying to deceive into thinking I was some hot young thing… it was a girl and we were talking about make up. I wasn’t aware I should have said my age before sitting down.

“I’m 27… can I still sit and chat??”

“Seat’s taken!”

So I answered her: “I’m 27.”

Her eyes widened, she tossed her head back in surprise (and a little bit of disgust I have to admit… like she could catch the late twenties) and she said:

“Wow… you look great! What do you use?”

Really?

I mean… really??

First of all… how old am I supposed to look by now?

What product do I use?

I was really thrown by that one. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I should have given her the card of my plastic surgeon. It was the weirdest comment. And I can’t say that it felt good… Even though she really meant it as a complement, and I’m glad that I don’t look like I am really the ripe old age of pre-thirty, but still… the idea that I was old enough to have to use product to look this good… it hurt.

Perhaps I am too old to be slutty for Halloween.

Perhaps I’m too old to be going to parties…

But maybe… perhaps not too.

And by the way… if you’re wondering… I use Arbonne of course!