No, seriously….when did I become old??????
I originally decided to post this blog because I walked in to my room one morning and Barbie was blasting music so that she could hear it in the shower. I covered my ears to walk through the room. Really???? This from the girl who would blast Nirvana at the top of the stereo volume while she was getting ready to go out????? The main thought in my head was “When did I become old???”
Now, I am one that is not ashamed of her age. I am proud to be 41, no, wait, I am 42! (Do you do that too? Forget how old you are? I do it all the time? Another sign I’m getting old????) I’m happy where my life is at right now. I am a homeschool mom of 6 and my eldest is 15. That doesn’t bug me. I have some laugh lines. I have some gray hairs. I even have a couple of wrinkles by my eyes, and I’m getting the dreaded age spots. But I don’t dread them. I welcome them!!!
So why did that thought irritate me to no end. I really don’t understand why.
And then “IT” happened. I was taking BAM! to a doctors appointment about an hour away from our house. Eyes got car sick, so we had to stop into a local retail store to purchase some new clothing. (Yes it really was that bad). And the cashier at check out asked me the question that brought me to tears. She smiled sweetly and asked, “Are you 55 years old or older?”
I gasped. I looked at her like she had 3 heads. And then I exclaimed, “um….NO!” She didn’t even look abashed. She just rang me up. I paid for my purchase, went out to the truck, and promptly broke into tears. Now, admittedly, it was a tough day. Traveling with 6 kids all by my lonesome that far. Eyes vomiting all over the car. And taking BAM! to an appointment to discuss having a tumor removed. But none of that made me cry. Being asked if I was 55 did.
Me this past weekend (I still think I’m pretty cute! lol)
I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I think the reason it affected me so much is that I’ve NEVER been asked if I was older before! NEVER!!! I’ve been accused of being younger before plenty of times. In fact, when I was pregnant with Barbie a hostess in a restaurant read me and my mother the riot act for being a teenager and pregnant (hugely pregnant). I was 26 and had to pull out my drivers license to prove it to her. Shortly after Barbie was born (I mean like 2 days later), I was in a grocery store and had an old lady tell me that as a teenager, I was way too old to be playing with dolls. (Yes, she was that cute, and yes she accused me of being a teenager). This kind of thing has happened to me all of my life. As a 6th grader, a teacher yelled at me for being on the wrong playground and promptly grabbed my hand and took me to the kindergarten playground. Even in my late 30’s people were telling me that I looked no older than my 20’s. (and no, they weren’t flattering me).
So, I guess I’m old. Or, at least, starting to look older. That doesn’t bug me that much. It really doesn’t. As long as someone doesn’t ask me if I’m 55+ in the next 13 years, I should be ok….maybe….possibly….