What's My Age Again?
Ah youth! That fleeting time when we all work our hardest to
shine our brightest. When we're full of energy and pep, before the piss
and vinegar seeps in.
Our lives follow a pretty standard line as we age. We start
as babies, completely dependent on our parents for food, clothing, shelter and
love.
Then we become little children. We still rely on our parents for food,
clothing, shelter and love, but start hating any food our parents present us
with that doesn’t end with ‘nuggets’.
Then we become pre-teens. We
still rely on our parents for food, clothing, shelter and love, but the food
they give us is ‘crap’ and "if you think I'm wearing that, you can forget
it"!
Then we become teenagers. We still rely on our parents for food,
clothing, shelter and love but, "I’m not eating that” and “Screw this.
I'll just buy my own clothes! and I hate you mom! You're ruining my life”!
To, finally, adulthood when we move out of our parents warm, clean
house and into some crappy apartment that we can barely afford, with some roommates we
can't stand and live off Mr. Noodles and KD and dive for bargains on clothes at
the Goodwill ‘cause we can't afford shit and never appreciated how good we had
it.
Ah growing up! Such a journey!
There are a few important milestones on this journey to
adulthood. Getting your drivers license,
going to college and of course, reaching the legal drinking age. For some odd reason, when you are in the
19-30 age span, not being recognized as being of legal age is seen as a gross
insult.
“OMG! Do I look under 19 to you!
This is unbelievable”!
Then suddenly,
after age 30 or so, when someone asks to see your id it’s all,
“OMG! Do I look under 19 to you! This is
unbelievable”!
The oldest I was asked for id, (so far), was at age 41. I was at the liquor store trying to by a
little sumthin’sumthin’ on Christmas Eve.
The cashier, a rather unhappy women in her 50’s, requested my id. Well hot diggity! Yes you can see my id! I pulled out my wallet, but God help me I
could not extract my drivers licence from the little plastic window. As I wrestled with my id a long
line started forming behind me. It was
Christmas Eve after all.
I looked at her
a little distressed and said, “It just won’t come out. Can’t you just look at it through the
plastic window"? Apparently not. After about 5 minutes of struggling under the
glare of my fellow shoppers my husband finally came wondering up to
ask what was taking so long. The cashier
took one look at him and started to think she may have made a mistake. It’s not like he looks ancient or anything,
but he definitely looks over 19! Despite
the husband, the wedding ring and the tattoos I have, she still proceeded to
jam her finger into my wallets id holder and molest my card. I have no idea what she was trying to feel
for, but eventually she started to ring up my wine.
I asked her, “Are you checking everybody
today”?
"No" she said, that would take all
day.
“Ya hear that honey”, I said elbowing him in the ribs, “They’re not checking everyone's id today”.
Proof positive I am aging well, at least on
the outside. Truth be told if I ever
lose the extra 70 pounds I’m carrying around with me, my face is gonna deflate
and I’ll look like a Shar Pei puppy.
It’s nice to know there’s one benefit to being overweight!
Time marches on. We find jobs, meet someone special, start our own
families and just when we’re hitting our stride and things are coming together
we realize that we are middle aged. Our
children are teenagers. We have paunches and high blood pressure. We need mammograms and colonoscopies. We have to watch our cholesterol and get
reading glasses. Egad! When did this
happen! Watching my son play hockey now
is taking my life into my own hands. I
can’t get too excited. I’m entering my
heart attack years!
And whereas it is incredible to be mistaken for 18 when your
41, being mistaken for 42 when you’re 41 is like a nail in your coffin and you
hear every, single hit of the hammer.
A friend of mine recently shared that she was
asked if she was her 13-year-old son’s grandmother. GRANDMOTHER!!! I can sympathize.
Exhibit A
I was 38 years old working at an office here in Ottawa. During a group lunch a bunch of us on staff
were sitting around the conference table eating and gabbing, and the topic of
conversation turned to movies and music.
Turned out my boss and I had very similar likes when it came to movies
from the 90’s. She turned to me and
asked, “How old are you anyway”?
“Oh my God”! she says, “Really?
I never knew you were that young!”.
Mouths were gaping around the table. So, she was like 40, so if
she thought I was older than her, just how old did she think I was!
“Uh, come again”?
Well, it’s just that your children are so much older than
mine. You must have had them when you
were really young”.
“Wha . . . we . . .wa . . . I was a married woman”! I sputtered out indignantly.
Fortunately other people around the table quickly veered the
conversation in another direction, but that was the first time I was ever
mistaken for being older than I am. I'm
not gonna lie, it stung a bit.
It wouldn’t be the last though.
Exhibit B
I was asked for id at a Target store in the US trying to purchase
some booze. I posted about the request
on Facebook. “Ha! Got id’ at Target
today”! One of my 'friends' asked, “Was
it for the senior's discount”? Hilarious.
Exhibit C
My husband and I were out last year with my best friend and her
boyfriend. We had a great dinner and
were looking forward to a great night at the comedy club my friends boyfriend
owns, but it turns out the joke was on me.
Just to be clear, I was looking fabulous that night. It was date night
after all. At the end of the evening the 19ish year old waitress came over to
give us our bills. She started chatting
up my friend,
“Oh my Gosh! How are
you?!” Cue the hair flipping.
“I’m good! How are you”?
Flip, flip.
“Oh my God, I’m great”! Flip, flip. “Did you enjoy the show”?
Flip, flip, flip, flip, flip.
“Yeah, it was great” Flip.
“So, who is this?” she asked, flipping her hair at me and my
husband. “Is this your parents”?
Ma and Pa Lambert?
I remember thinking, “she didn’t just say ‘parents’". I must have misheard. But as I looked over at
my bestie, and saw her mouth gaping open in shock, I knew I must have heard
correctly.
This dumb ass waitress thought I was my best friend’s mother. Her Mother!!
I wish I could convey in writing the shrill hysterics I felt. We are the same age. I am exactly one week older than her. I wanted to grab that waitress by her long
flippy hair and choke her with it! And
we had already tipped her!
So, there you have it. It
happens to the best of us. Age creeps up
when we’re not looking and one day we turn around too quickly, and she bitch slaps
us in the face. All we can do is keep on keepin' on. And moisturize.
Peace out!
Michy
