Age

Is "old" relative?
I don't know. Most people would probably consider me "young" at the decrepit age of 29, but I am not sure I would agree. I found myself repeating the phrase, "It's because I am young, right?" to my mom and husband yesterday when referencing the fact that I had gone to the gym for the first time in four months, and kept up with my mother who is a gym superstar. I was kind-of embarrassed when I looked back at those conversations and realized I had actually tried to use my age as a sign of my strength and endurance, when we all know that age is never a steady predictor of those abilities. I was a much weaker person both in the literal and non-literal sense 10 years ago; the years, and sometimes even months seem to grant us strength and wisdom. Wisdom, of which I choose to use sometimes, but mostly I let sit in the back of my mind waiting for its' special moment to make a one minute appearance. This morning as I woke up with a back ache from the gym and heart pains (which may have been due to my breakfast of sprinkled donuts and diet pepsi), I realized that I was the person who needed to be convinced of my vitality and strength - not my mom or Blair. I feel old, and trust me, there are reasons...

-Some of my favorite music is now considered the "Alternative Hits of Yesterday" on local radio stations.

-I use face cream religiously as of 6 months ago. Abby now slathers on lotion all over her face in an attempt to be like me; it would be cute except for the fact that most of it ends up in her mouth and all over the clean towels in the bathroom.

-I wear blush. I NEVER used to wear blush...just had my young little "glow" (Ha.) I also spent $10 (which I think is a lot) on "line-reducing" cover up. It is supposed to "minimize the affects of aging and lesson the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles." (Pretty impressive, I know.) Now, I can't stop myself from buying and wearing more makeup than ever. So, don't be surprised if I look like Joan Rivers the next time you see me; please just pretend you don't notice.

-I liked listening to conference. I think it might've even been the first time that I can remember really looking forward to the talks, without needing the added incentive of candy bingo (Not that I didn't partake of the M&M's used to bribe Abby to stick around and pretend to listen). As the concept of "getting old" has been on my mind recently, this newfound love of conference really startled me. So, I asked a group of teachers I work with if this was one of those "signs" that I was getting old, and they all said "Yes" in an overwhelmingly convincing tone. Crap.

-The whole skinny jean phenom is beyond my taste level. Sure, it might look cute on those little girls who weigh 105 - but, not the boys. I am not sure how they can consider those pants that show everything their parents gave them, (if you know what I mean) - attractive attire to wear out of the house, or inside the house for that matter. I remember my dad telling some girlfriends and I as we looked at pictures of my parents in bell-bottoms, that we would see the day when we too would wear flared jeans. My girlfriends and I gagged and swore that would never happen, and rolled our Girbauds tighter to show off our LA Gear high top sneakers. Now, in my old age - I have seen this jean cycle go full circle.

-I feel very politcal; not necesarilly "smart" political, but more "interested" political. I didn't give a rip about the economy and energy and "foreign policy" eight, or even four years ago. I just liked it when the government gave me free money in the mail. Now, I have "Tivo'd" the debates, and recently spent the wee hours (like 2:00am) on a weekend watching one - and enjoying myself. Now, that is definetly what I call "letting it all hang out" on a Friday night.

-As recently noted on a friend's blog; thinking some not-to-be-named (maybe Zac Efron...)"Pop" Stars are nice-looking at my age, could also be potentially called - child molestation.


So, I may not be "old" in years - but I am sure the evidence I presented above is enough to prove I am getting up there in relative age. I need to work on this "embracing the thirties" project and not be so fearful of what lies ahead. So, in that spirit, here's to enjoying the new wrinkle on my forehead, age spots on my shoulders, and love of teenage hearthrobs. (Please do not turn me in.)