Why Didn’t Anyone Warn Me?
I will be 37 in about two months. THIRTY SEVEN. When did that happen? I have never struggled with the concept of getting older. I’ve always been an old soul and have always bought into those clichés about aging. You know the ones. Ones like, “You’re only as old as you feel.” Or “Age is just a number.” But something about 37 is hitting a little bit different. I’m officially and firmly placed in my “late thirties.” I have a favorite spatula, get tired from long days of thinking, and don’t like when loud cars drive past my house. But the worst sign of aging of all? I prefer wearing flats over heels and I never thought I’d see that day. Why didn’t anyone warn me?
But the spatulas, the cars and the shoes are just the beginning. These are so many sure-fire signs of aging that I’ve noticed lately and if you can relate to any of them, it’s safe to say that no one warned you, either.
You are shocked at how bad your body aches. I have four flights of stairs in my townhouse. Literally. Four flights. And I swear to God, every single time I walk up and down those stairs, my knees snap-crackle-pop like the Rice Krispies Cereal I ate as a child. Okay, maybe I ate Rice Krispies last week but that really isn’t the point. I’m still convinced that at any point those little elves are going to jump off the front of the box and start following me around.
You stop watching the Bachelor and Bachelorette. Here’s the thing. I keep getting older and they stay the same age. Why isn’t there a reality show that has men and women in their late 30s and 40s who have been married before, have a crazy ex-husbands or wives, three kids and enough baggage to fill a minibus? I want to see the woman who now has to be a step-mom to two pre-teens or a dude who has to fight it out with the ex-boyfriend who never quite got over his girl and now makes some questionable decisions on how to get her back. Now THAT is something I’d invest my time in.
You debate the benefits of solid hardwood vs. engineered hardwood with your friends. If you would have told me ten years ago that I would thoroughly enjoy a conversation with my best friends about their flooring, I would have called you crazy. But seriously, is there a big difference to the naked eye between solid and engineered? Does one last longer than the other? Does one have more colors or options? Million-dollar questions that are frequently discussed around our Friendsgiving table.
You’d rather day drink than have to go anywhere after 7pm. When I drink three bottles of wine at night, it’s called being a lush (the word “alcoholic” is far too judgey). When I drink three bottles of wine during the day, it’s called wine tasting. And I’d like to think that my friends and I have really conquered the whole “I-want-to-drink-excessively-but-not-in-a-childish-way” thing. Tipsy by 11am, drunk by 1pm, hungover by 5pm, asleep by 8pm. There are two major benefits to doing it this way. First, you don’t have to socialize with the after-dark gremlins that populate the bars at night and second, you can wake up the next morning and still have a full, productive day. Win-win.
You look at someone in their 20’s, whether they are 21 or 29, and think “When are you graduating 8th grade?” Why though? When I was in my 20s, I was mature, had a career, owned a home, and had a ton of friends getting married and having children. Now, at close to 37 years old, I look at people in their 20s and wonder at what age they’ll switch to looking like a grown-up, because they certainly don’t right now. At the same time, I’m wondering, at what age will I stop pretending that I couldn’t be their mother.
You need your phone’s flashlight to read a restaurant menu. I love having nice dinners with my family or friends. We sit, eat a bunch of delicious food, drink probably a few too many bottles of wine, order several desserts for the table and then enjoy a nice cappuccino to finish up the evening. But often, these restaurants are dim and the print on the menus is about the size of the text on the disclaimer on my bottle of Advil. Eventually my eyes adjust, but not in nearly enough time to figure out if I’m about to order a vodka martini or rigatoni in a spicy vodka sauce.
You make an “UGH” sound when you have to stand up after sitting for a while. Do not even try to lie, you know you can relate to this one. Every single time I’m sitting, or laying, or kneeling, or squatting in one position for longer than just a couple minutes, the noises that come out of my mouth while trying to get up are embarrassing. I’m sorry, Lea, are you trying to push a boulder up a hill? Oh, no? Then stop grunting and pull yourself together.
You no longer care how you look in public. Several times a day, I go outside in front of my townhouse, which faces a busy street and a large outdoor shopping center mind you, and take my dog to go potty. I will often do this while looking like a troll who lives under a bridge. Seriously. I look like a woman who makes people solve riddles in order to cross her bridge. I have on mismatching pajamas, hair looking a mess, barefoot with no bra on. Several people who work for me live nearby and often drive past my house. What happens when they see me out there looking like that and then must act serious in a meeting with me three hours later?
Why didn’t anyone warn me?
Lea = Adult
