Written by Emily
It hit me while I was thoroughly enjoying Ladies’ Home Journal. Every other page was an advertisement for hormone replacements and overactive bladder medication. The magazine that’s stacked with Reader’s Digests and Good Housekeeping in nursing homes and gynecologists’ offices is my magazine of choice these days. Aside from the pimple on my forehead that hearkens back to my training bra days, I’m aging at warp speed. I grabbed a Werther’s Original from the pocket of my housecoat and thought about all the signs pointing me in the direction of an AARP card sooner than I imagined.
A Buzzfeed Quiz told me so.
I fell victim to Facebook peer pressure and took a quiz to confirm that my children are lucky to have me as their hip-to-death mother. When my quiz results revealed I am a “prematurely old parent”, I intended to go on an ironic t-shirts shopping spree and put sky-diving on my bucket list, but I got distracted by a Golden Girls marathon. Who writes these quizzes anyway?
I can Tell You the Last Time I was Carded
I can tell you the last time I was carded because I fist pumped the air and said, “Yeeesssss!” when the clerk asked to see my license. Twenty-three year olds don’t do that. They don’t attempt to pop-n-lock as they put their I.D. back into their wallets either. Also, I was buying wine from a mall kiosk.
I have to do Kegels
I’ve always exercised to maintain my sanity. I’ve always exercised so my midsection doesn’t spill over the top of my pants like a squeezed Gogurt. Now I have to exercise the land down under, so I won’t find myself in a new diaper aisle after my toddler is finally potty-trained. On the bright side, if I do as my OB suggests and squeeze every time I wait, my lady parts will have the equivalent of a six-pack by the time my daughter finds her shoe.
I Side with the Rents
As in the parents. After I hid behind my grocery cart to flip through the pages of a Cosmo magazine, I threw-up in my mouth a little and immediately used hand sanitizer because I felt dirty. I was compelled to use my teacher voice and sternly tell the models to wear more clothes and insist that “anonymous” never ever do that thing in the car with all those people ever again. And, OMG, do people really talk like that?
“Comfort Wins” is my new Mantra
Eileen Fisher clothes appeal to me more and more everyday, but I’m unwilling to pay roughly the same as three college credits for a sweater. I’ll settle for jeans with some stretch, shoes that don’t make me walk like a newborn deer and a totally cool cardigan.
“Low-Rise is for Squares” is also my Mantra
I’m not on board with the four-inch zipper, but let’s compromise somewhere between three inches of crack saluting the mommy-n-me class instructor when I bend over and a waist band that grazes my nipples.
I say things like, “When I was a kid…”
or “If I would have talked to my parents like that…” and “When I was your age…”
If you need me, I’ll be trying anti-wrinkle creams at the cosmetic counter.