Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Acting my age...12.

In two weeks my husband, Justin, turns 40.

Being 40 is the official mark of adulthood. It's the time in life that you cannot possibly pretend to be a frat boy or a sorority sister anymore. People stop finding it cute when you lift your shirt and expose your chest like you could freely before. Not just at large crowd events, but at smaller venues, like the grocery store or Carl's Jr.

Forty is the age where you have to stop wearing your ball-cap backwards. It's law.

I'm not yet forty. I'm 34. This is a precarious age even when you consider my early menopause symptoms. This is MILF age. Young enough to still giggle but old enough to take no crap.

I find I've been presented with a dilemma concerning my maturity.

No, I'm not concerned over my enjoyment of fart jokes. No question there. Fart jokes are still funny.

I'm concerned over the implications of a song I heard over casino loud speakers in Vegas. A song I really liked. A song I made a point to remember some of the lyrics to so when I got home I could look it up and then stream capture it off of YouTube. A song I've listened to repeatedly since I've gotten home. I've moved my butt and hips to it.

The song? Performed by teeny-boppers. Youngsters. Minors. Children who cannot yet walk into a bar and order a long island iced tea.

Listen to my concern.

What's even more stupid about this...or maybe it's a consolation...this song is TWO years old. Yes, the duh factor is obvious. I did not catch it.

Why, I may hitch my mom jeans up to my boobs and go chasing after The Jonas Brothers at this point!

Do The Jonas Brothers have first names? I have no idea.

When I was a teeny bopper it was all New Kids on the Block. I'm sure they had names. I didn't know them then. I don't know them now. Every pubescent girl in 1989 loved them. I had sense enough then to observe their antics and become nauseated. Even their zits were scripted.

Twenty years later I've lost all the sense I was so blessed with as a teen.

Only six years to rectify the situation before it becomes hopeless. Certainly there is hope. I've never seen any High School Musical and I'm damned proud of that.


  1. 40 just...sucks. Last night my teenage daughter asked, "What is Def Leppard?" She lost her cell phone and I lost yet another grasp on the fact that I am no longer 18. *cries*

  2. I'll be 41 in August.

    Thankfully, the backwards hat restriction is lifted at that age.

    This is especially good because of the 'you must start going bald at 40' mandate of 1775.

  3. I solved that aging issue by stopping at age 35. I no longer have birthdays, just anniversaries of my 35th birthday. It does make for some interesting explanations when I talk about my youngest son who just last weekend celebrated his own 35th birthday. Now we are the same age.

  4. What???? 40 is the official mark of adulthood? I never got that memo. I think I acted more mature in my late twenties and thirties. Now that I am am halfway past forty, I do as I please. This is the wonderful age of being able to embarrass your kids. My husband has almost perfected his "dad dance".


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