If I were a betting woman--which I almost became that one time my sister Tula and I pooled our change together to get a Powerball ticket, and almost almost won--I'd bet that you know someone young and full of life who posted some bit of 90’s pop culture on Facebook while lamenting Ugh, I'm so old. You guys I'm literally so. Old. And I'm betting you rolled your eyes so far back into your head that they got stuck and now all you see are your own thoughts which started a weird Inception thing in your brain and your Ophthalmologist wrote you a prescription to avoid the Internet for three years.
It is the unfortunate fact that everyone my age is constantly in one of the four phases of a life crisis (scrolling through Instagram, depression, social anxiety, consuming junk food appropriated by the gourmet hipster community), but that's only because everyone else our age or younger has a better job, takes better trips, dresses in better clothes, curates better Pins, etc. And while I don't personally let myself get lost in the kind of comparison spiral that ends in me consuming boxes of fancy donuts or vegan snack cakes, since I already do that on Tuesdays, I often do share the sentiment that if I haven't done anything important yet then maybe I never will. And that does give me that whiny, icky I'm getting old feeling.
You know who is younger than I am? All the teenagers who are inventing things and curing diseases. Like all the ladies on The Bachelor. And the little bundle of joy that wakes up at 2 am and immediately rolls over onto all fours to play--nothing ages you faster and reminds you of your decrepitude more than an energetic baby, my friends. I’d like to think I'm turning into a regal matriarch character, but I think we have more of a Goonies villain situation going on here.
I used to be fun! I used to be cute! I used to get my hair cut at appropriate and consistent time intervals!
I’m asking because I don't remember.