To a 10 year old, I am old. To an 18 year old, I am old. Even to a 21 year old, I am old. But to someone who is 27, I am not that old. Want to know why? Because, they are getting closer to my age! Oh the cruelty of it for them. What they don’t know is what a relief getting older can be. And, what I have discovered as I get older (currently I am 34 years young) is that I care more for some things and much less for other things. For example, while I do care about my appearance when I go out in public I no longer care if someone snaps a photo of me that is not to my self criticizing standards (I ended up in a newspaper recently quite on accident with a very odd expression on my face – no my best photo but not my worst either). Who cares? It’s still me, yes? I try to look my best at all times, but quite frankly sometimes I just don’t wanna. At 34, I care less about what I think people are thinking about me and more about what I think of myself. I know I look good because I like who I see smiling back at me in the mirror. The point is this: I am more concerned with how my innards are feeling versus viewing myself through other people’s eyes. My “persona” is focused more often inward than outward.

Here are some other things I think are pretty awesome about getting older:

– Sundays. A day of reflection and no longer a day of recovering from the previous 2 nights. It is so nice to wake up with a clear head instead of a fog of stale alcohol.

– Underwear that cover your whole butt. Screw g-strings. They give your ass a rash and are entirely too uncomfortable. When I am worried about panty lines, I opt out of them completely.

– My parents are people too. No longer do I hold them responsible for what I did not have the voice to ask for nor do I fault them for making some mistakes along the way. All 3 of my parents are lovely wonderful people who tried really hard to make sure I knew I was loved. I see their beauty I could not see in the cloud of self depreciating 20’s.

– Friends. Quality v. Quantity baby. When you’re younger and less wise, it’s about how many people you know versus how well you know the people you know. What a hard lesson this is! I have about 3 – 5 people I can turn to at anytime versus 50 who will dart at the first notion of discomfort. Now, this is not to say that knowing a variety of people and keeping in touch with people you have met along the way is not important. It is. They remind you of your journey. I just don’t feel the need to make sure I connect with them everyday. Isn’t that what facebook is for anyways?

– People older than me. They are like my tour guides warning me about bumps in the road and things not to miss. While it can be uncomfortable to listen to someone who is in their 90’s talk about their hot sex life, you can still learn a thing or two.

– Libraries. They have real books! And they are free! I am old school when it comes to books which feels awkward to say anyways. I have tried digital which is great for traveling ….but it really gives you no point of reference. I love the feel of it. I love looking at the book. I love the smell of the book. Reading it is the cherry on top.

– Family. Oh how I love my family! The opinions. The advice. The laughter. The quirks! We are a loving group of people who have been through a roller coaster of challenges, but man when you need someone to ground you there is not a better group to turn to.

I am wishing to all of you a wonderful Sunday with no panty problems, spent with a wonderful friend/lover, cuddled up with a book from the library, a phone call from your favorite aunt/uncle/cousin who tells you a funny story about your parents and a great conversation with someone much older than you.

8 responses to “Older

  1. Your Favorite Aunt Judy

    I love the bullet item on Parents ~thank you for breaking through on that topic! And, you and your favorite aunt are on the same page (ha!) when it comes to books. I love the feel of them and the fact that I can dog-ear the page. And, not a funny story but something about your mom. Neighborhood kids were playing hide-n-seek, in the dark, at the Magelson’s house and Connie ran into a board with a nail sticking out. She had to go to the doc to get stitches in her forehead.

  2. I’m 33, and I don’t understand why 16 year olds who walk in packs still feel compelled to harass and tease me as if I was one of their peers. I was at the mall the other day by myself shopping for jeans, and this 17 year old wearing a Mudvayne tee-shirt who looked like he still hadn’t grown into his long and slender limbs yet came up behind me and yelled in my ear. Obviously he did this to impress his friends and be funny, and for a second this made me feel old. But I think kids like this also view me as somebody who is approximately the same age as them, and this is mystifying. I can’t possibly see what I have in common with somebody who is still in high school. High schoolers still have underdeveloped brains, this is why they care so much about image and not what’s inside. They haven’t been introduced yet to concepts like responsibility, they don’t know what it truly means to be a life failure, and they still haven’t been humbled by the realization that life is short and death is closer than we all think. So it irks me when I see a pack of kids coming my way and I cringe in the same way I did when I walked the halls and breezeways of my old high school expecting that imminent taunting remark or having my hat knocked off my head. I am more composed to deal with these immature little skirmmishes today, and my size and experience makes me perfectly capable of going Incredible Hulk on these little punks asses, but I still don’t understand what part of themselves they see in me.

  3. Hehehe I loved this post.

    I just turned 26 last month, and I’ve realized that lately i don’t mind not looking great in every picture as I did even 1 year ago.
    It’s not like I’ve come to just accept it, in a way I almost like pictures in which, before, I used to absolutely hate how I looked.

    Guess it’s all about growing up and learning to like everything you’ve got 🙂

  4. Your Favorite Aunt Judy

    You would think that I was more creative/athletic/girly by having your mom as an older sister. I remember when Connie and I had these housecoats – very flimsy white material that had a tie-string at the neck. Connie’s was white with red butterflies. Mine was white with blue butterflies. Once our Uncle Roy came over and Connie made us put on the housecoats and do a little performance – twirling, etc. I vaguely remember her humming or singing while we twirled those housecoats around us. She was always “on stage” and everyone always got a kick out of her performances.

    • Thank you for this! It’s wonderful to hear these stories of her and of the family …. she never told me any of them. She always spoke about her brothers and sisters but never any stories of when she was younger. Keep em coming!

  5. I’m catching up on some of your older posts… hilarious! And you know me and my books. Thou shalt buy books from a bookstore, not digital files from Amazon or Apple. I’m sure it’s a rule somewhere.

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