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There comes a time in every woman's life when she realizes that she is not a girl anymore.
That time came yesterday for me.
I am getting old. How is this even possible? I am cool!
I graduated high school in the NINETIES! (The early nineties, but the nineties.)
But, I am old. My hairdresser found a grey hair last week. On my head. Attached to my scalp.
I am young enough to remember where I was when The Challenger exploded, but not old enough to be able to say I know where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated- I wasn't even BORN yet!
I woke up feeling young and lively and then in a cruel sequence of events I realized I was OLD.
By nightfall, I was looking for my prune juice and attaching a clapper to my lamp.
It all started when I was dropping my daughter off at school. I was at a red light. Two 'dudes' pulled up next to me- they were high school age, in a red convertible, listening to some awful music. I actually thought to myself- What is that NOISE they are listening to?
After I dropped Lauren off at school, I went to the grocery store. I am making dinner tonight for some friends. After gathering my low fat cheese, multi-grain bread, and low acid tomato sauce, I remembered I needed drinks.
I didn't go to the beer aisle; I went to the WINE aisle. And I actually picked a bottle of wine for its taste, not its price.
Once I checked out and DID NOT get asked for my ID, I pushed my cart with my baby in it to my MINIVAN. I moved the soccer gear, stroller and diaper bag out of the way and put the groceries in.
On the way home, I realized I needed gas. So I pulled in to the station and filled up. Ten years ago, I was lucky to put $5 in my tank- and that was because I happened to find some loose change. And here I was, filling the tank- to the brim. I even splurged on a $3 carwash for the minivan.
Once home, I unloaded the groceries as the exterminator arrived. It struck me that this is THE epitome of adulthood. I am paying someone to keep my house free of bugs! Only adults do this. My college apartment was a living science experiment!
After the exterminator left, I made my son lunch- and it had VEGETABLES in it! I remember thinking when I had kids, I would never make them eat vegetables if they didn't care to. Yet, here I was, making airplane noises and pretending peas were flying elephants to get him to eat.
Once lunch was cleaned up, a load of laundry was put in the dryer, and the beds made, I went back to school to get my daughter.
The director of the school asked if I would come in and do a speech for career day. She wanted me to talk to the kids about the legal profession, and what it is people in the field do all day.
Is she SMOKING CRACK?? I clean up baby vomit and watch Oprah all day! I haven't been inside of an office that didn't have toys in the waiting room for SIX years!
Once we left the school, we went to Target. After telling my daughter no to EVERY toy in the department, and telling my son to sit down about thirty-seven times, we were at the checkout.
As I loaded by purchases on to the conveyer belt, I took stock. Reality hit like lightning!
Tums. Pepto Bismol. Soy chips. Good Housekeeping magazine. Pledge. Diapers. And the knife in my heart; a three pack of Hanes Her Way white cotton briefs.
You read it here first, folks. I bought GRANNY PANTIES.
The truth is I have come too far in life to worry about pretty.
Practical is my new middle name. Cotton briefs are the wave of the future.
My future anyway.
When my husband got home from work, he found me crying into my middle school yearbook. Those were the days! All I worried about was whether Kevin Sicard liked me, and if Mr. Martin was going to figure out that I cheated on my math test. (No, and yes.)
I wish I could go back in time and tell that girl that the things she worries about are not really worries at all. I want to tell her that acne and nasty rumors both dry up and go away. I want to tell her that the heartache she feels because Kevin Sicard doesn't like her is NOTHING compared to the heartache she will feel watching her firstborn fight for life in an incubator.
My daughter saw me looking at the yearbook and inquired what I was doing. I explained what a yearbook was, and showed her my picture. She said "Mommy, you were so beautiful! And a little kid just like me!"
I smiled and thought how sweet- she made me feel instantly better.
Until she dropped the bomb.
"But now you're old and look like Grandma!"
Dear God. Shoot me now.
Until we meet again,
Cici
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