Of a certain ageMy dad once said he always felt young until he looked in the mirror.
“It’s weird,” he said, describing how the inside didn’t match the outside.
Now that I’m of a certain age, I agree. It is weird. But, unlike my dad, I’ve noticed a few telltale signs that have given me just a hint that I might be older than I feel. Below is a compilation of a few I’ve noticed and/or observed:
You covet your neighbors’ refrigerator, specifically the stainless steel with the freezer on bottom.
You’re still waiting on leg warmers to come back in style. Please come back in style.
You have to explain what your slang expressions mean to your kids.
You look forward to your doctor’s appointment.
You begin sentences with “back in 1983 ...”
You occasionally say “car phone” instead of “cell phone.”
You’ve been known to listen for a dial tone on said cell phone.
The interns at work are younger than your daughter.
You stop asking if your outfit makes your butt look big because (a) you know it does, and (b) you don’t care.
When you wake up in the morning, you are truly glad to be alive.
You forget and refer to your deceased loved ones in the present tense.
When you tell people at your high school reunion that you are glad to see them, you mean it.
Your hair dresser is your best friend.
You have socks older than your children.
You pray the kids don’t put you on “What not to wear” because you don’t want to give up your favorite gray sweatshirt with paint on it.
You know how many calories and grams of fat are in 12 almonds.
You have learned to forgive people, including yourself.
You know your limitations, yet it doesn’t stop you.
You value good toilet paper.
You start caring about the weather.
You write thank you notes -- and mail them.
You miss your grandmother’s cooking.
You’ll pay an ungodly amount of money for two ounces of wrinkle cream.
You won’t pay more than $2.50 for a head of lettuce.
You would seriously consider killing for good homemade fudge.
You are genuinely perplexed that your peers look old.
Sports, such as playing tennis or running, become less about winning and more about surviving.
You’ve admitted that your parents were right, but you still would have done it your way.
You realize chewing gum in church won’t damn you to hell. Neither will wearing shorts. Neither will daydreaming during the sermon. God’s OK with all of that. In fact, you realize, he’s pretty cool.
Your purse is a portable medicine cabinet.
Your kids are taller than you, which they think makes them smarter.
You know they never will be because you are older, and if you’re living right, wiser.
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