Am I Old?

I’ve always prided myself on being very hip. I work in the music industry. I’m into fashion. I even read Teen Vogue when I’m bored at the airport. However, as of late, I’ve caught myself in certain situations that beg the age question…

The first tip-off happened at the mall – Wet Seal to be exact. I saw a cute scarf in the window and ducked in to see how much it was. I noted that the music playing overhead was particularly heinous, and yes, a tad bit loud. I consoled myself by silently concluding that the synth-heavy excuse for a pop singer was clearly a nobody, since I couldn’t pick out a single lyric or melody from the auto-tuned mess. While I was circling the wagons, a group of double-zero 6th graders sidled up to the accessory wall next to me. And guess what? They were singing along to the music! Not only did they know who this talentless crooner was, they liked her! I dropped the scarf like it was hot and made a bee-line for the exit, suddenly feeling as if my Tano bag was a cane and my Anthropologie earrings were hearing aids.

Second tip-off: the grocery store. While perusing the magazine aisle, I reached for my usual copy of Elle, and instead spotted a tasty interior design cover that turned out to be Kitchen and Bath Ideas…a publication of Better Homes and Gardens. A mom magazine! I ashamedly stuffed it into the cart and covered it up with an issue of Seventeen to compensate. But, the minute I got home, I threw the perishable items in the fridge and ran upstairs to my bed with a copy of Old Ladies ‘R Us like a teenager that had just snagged an autographed Jonas Brothers CD – gazing lustily at the granite counter special and practically licking the tiled floor spread on page 68.

The final straw: my speech. I always thought it was so goofy and odd how my mother would jumble up her words and mix up sentences and phrases. Tagged to the end of one these verbal blunders would always be the statement, “See girls? I really am losing my mind.” It all seemed so hilarious until I asked my sister the other day if she wanted to go to dinner at California Pizza Chicken. Then, yesterday, I intended to ask my aunt if she could find the location of a house because she goes to church in Leiper’s Fork and I said, “since you go to chirp in Leeker’s Fork.” And finally, I was singing the ABC song to my daughter in the car last week, got to L-M-N-O-P and couldn’t for the life of me remember what came next.

So…am I old? I did just turn 25 this year, so perhaps this is that quarter-life crisis I hear everyone talking about? It’s a good possibility. I did have a ginormous meltdown two months after my birthday, and I’ve been buying up anti-aging face cream like it’s going out of style. Perhaps I should just keep on thinking I’m still in my early 20’s like Jessica Simpson…”After this year, I’m going to turn 25 – and that’s almost mid-twenties!!!”

At this point, the only things I have keeping me tethered to my youth are my Converse low-tops and my love of chocolate milk. But then again, maybe this getting older thing isn’t so bad – with age comes wisdom, right? That’s not a bad thing to have. And there’s no arguing that Jennifer Aniston looks stinking unbelievable and she’s 40 for crying out loud. I think the only sentiment to sum up my feelings is that Kathy Bates line from Fried Green Tomatoes, “I’m too young to be old, and I’m too old to be young!”