“Doctor please, some more of these. Outside the door, she took four more. What a drag it is getting old” The Rolling Stones, Mother’s Little Helper
I happened to overhear something hilarious while out shopping yesterday. A 50-something dad was trying to explain a disposable camera to his tween daughter. She was holding the relic, looking at it like it was some kind of magical fossil from the Jurassic era, while he was attempting to tell her how it worked. Daughter: “But like where do I upload the pics?” Dad: “You don’t upload. You take them to a lab to get prints.” Daughter: “Wait, but like, what does that mean?” Dad: “Prints. (off her confused look) “Prints. Actual paper pictures.” Daughter: “But, like, what’s the point of that? Like, how do I even put that on my Instagram?” I couldn’t help laughing and then it hit me- the fact is, I kind of got a late start on this parenting thing and when my kid is that age, I will be (gasp) also firmly into my 50s. How did this happen? When did I get so old?
You barely think about it when you’re young. You know you’ll get old someday, but someday seems So. Far. Away. And you take it for granted- the smoothness of your skin, perkiness of your ass and boobies (and everything else), the sharpness of your mind, the thickness of your hair. These are things that barely register because it seems like a given that they will always be so. Until they aren’t. Until suddenly, you’re being referred to as ma’am and not even getting the courtesy ID check when buying a drink. And then, if you’re anything like me (did I mention that I’m a little bit crazy?) you’ll start to panic that the easiest currency you’ve kind of always had in your back pocket is depreciating quickly. Continue reading “What a Drag It Is Getting Old”