I don’t know if you guys heard, but Patrick Swayze just died. Patrick Swayze. Of Dirty Dancing hotness. When did I get old enough for the crushes of my teenage years to start dying off? I guess I really am getting older.
That’s not the only sign, either. Want to hear some more? Of course you do.
The music you grew up with is on the oldies station. The other day I heard Bon Jovi. On the oldies station. Bon Jovi, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve also heard Van Halen and Madonna. It made me want to cry real tears.
The fashion of your teenage years is back in style. First leggings. Then acid washed jeans. Can Esprit bags and bodysuits be far behind? If mall bangs come back, I’m moving to another country.
The pop stars of your youth are dangerously close to being able to claim Social Security. Madonna is 50. Steven Tyler is…well, I don’t know how old he is. But he looks old. Too old to be the rock star I remember.
The newly hired college grads at work look like little kids. They “say” they’re 22. I think maybe they must have skipped a grade or three. Fake IDs are getting better all the time, you know.
You find yourself saying, “I remember when…” I remember when I could fill up my car for ten bucks. When I could drink my weight in beer and still get up and go to work the next day. When my boobs defied gravity – no push-up bra required. When… if you can fill in the blanks, you’re old.
You buy a pair of pants you think look good, and then realize they’re mom jeans. Not that I’ve ever done that or anything. And I didn’t rush them back to the store before my husband could see them and laugh. Nope, not me.
You watch the MTV VMA Awards, and spend half the show thinking, “who the hell is that?” I thought I was pretty on top of things. That show proved me wrong (BTW, Kanye? You really are a shit).
You stop buying acne medicine and start buying anti-wrinke cream. Unless you’re me. Then you buy acne medicine with anti-wrinkling agents in it (damn skin).
You head upstairs, into the next room (pick your destination), and then forget why you’re there. At first, I thought it was the pregnancy. Now I just think my brain cells are dying off.
And the number one way you know you’re getting older is…
The people you would have deemed “ancient” ten years ago now seem young. Forty? Heck, that’s the new 21, isn’t it? Sure it is. I’m not six years away from being Over the Hill. Am I? Don’t answer that!