Lord help me, I think I’m aging too quickly. You know how you always see people who act younger than they really are. And they’re all fun and fun to hang around. Then you see the people who already act like one foot is in the grave. I’m afraid I’m becoming the latter. Only time will tell if I will do it gracefully (from yesterday’s post some of you might think I’ve reached curmudgeon stage).
Example one: I love fashion and style and trying to be in it. With each consecutive magazine that I get though I get more and more concerned for the fashion editors of those magazines. What Kool Aid are they drinking? They’re still trying to push that jumpsuit craziness. And baggy clothes. And mixing prints. Wha?!?! Or am I getting old and now falling into that middle-aged category that is so comfortable in styles they wore in their twenties they’re unwilling to try new fashion? Please help me.
Example B: I have had the same hairstyle, give or take a couple of inches, for oh, fifteen years. Thank all that is right in this world that this wasn’t in the 80s. I don’t want to be that lady who is so afraid of changing her look that it takes a public intervention on Oprah to get her to cut her hair, and put on new clothes. I did take measures this fall when I got layers cut into my hair and went blonder than I have ever naturally been. But I consider those baby steps. I need to do something like go black pixie to stay young.
Example six: I have had a bloggy meet-up before. Many I am realizing. My engagement last week was an example of what is becoming regular in my life. Two of my neighbors are bloggers and we’ve been to the Governor’s Mansion together, the bus stop, decorating gingerbread houses. How could I forget that? It’s that oldstimer disease I believe, sneaking up on me taking away my…what was I saying?
There’s got to be a way to stop this mental age progression. You would think that having two young kids would be of some help, but most days they drain the life out of me. Heaven help me when I start yelling at kids in the mall…or letting vacuum salesmen into my house. I must sign off now. The bed is calling me…earlier and earlier each night.