Slacking with my inner old lady

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relaxing on the couch

People talk about having an inner child. I don’t. I have an inner old lady who says inappropriate things, tells everyone to be quiet and wants to go to bed at 8 p.m.

— Internet Meme, Everywhere

This weekend I was invited to a “sip n’ paint party” to benefit our high school softball team. A gaggle of ladies was invited to gather and learn to paint while sipping (non-alcoholic) beverages.

I refused to commit until I checked the time to confirm I would still be home by 9 p.m. I also questioned whether the night might be “too rowdy.”

Too rowdy? Middle-aged ladies, paint, and non-alcoholic drinks?

Yes, it was a regular rave.

I had a ball once I got there but I had to practically force myself out of the house to go. It’s not that I don’t like to have a good time, I do. I just want to have it earlier.

I’m a huge fan of dinner before 6 p.m. and matinees are cheaper anyway, right?

Slacking

Recently I was the subject of much derision not only from 18-year-old daughter, GirlWonder, but people my own age when it was discovered that I call non-denim, dress pants “slacks.”

GirlWonder was actually torn between disowning me on the spot in the store, and laughing so hard at me she couldn’t possibly get away from me.

My colleagues, upon hearing this story days later, agreed with her. Basically, I lost my cool points over “slacks.” I didn’t know this was no longer an acceptable word! Did the whole world just start wearing leggings and decide we don’t need a term?

I’m feeling like “dress pants” is acceptable but why use two words when one would do? Meanwhile, “pants” doesn’t tell one enough.

Many of you who have been reading along all these years have known me since I was young and dumb. Now I’m older — and dumb!

The obvious signs of aging don’t bother me. A classmate plucked a grey hair off my head back in 11th grade English class. I was 16. I’ve been nearsighted forever so squinting at things is kind of my go-to look.

I will concede that now my “near vision” is faltering. Eventually, I will Be carrying a 55″ tv under my arm as a means of digital communication having decreed even the plus size smartphone screen “too small.”

Dating myself

It is realizing the other ways I date myself daily that make me laugh out loud. They say you are only as old as you feel? Well, I am “I love to be invited but am secretly relieved when friends cancel plans because I’d rather stay home in my pajamas anyway” years old.

I’m “let me tell you kids about how we used to have to change the television channels — all three of them — with our bare hands” years old.

See also: “I remember life before VCRs, DVDs, and watching a movie whenever we feel like it” years old.

I’ve been “I don’t remember why I came into this room” years old for at least a decade. I blame that one on the children. Keeping track of everyone and everything for so long really takes up the brain cells. I have none left for myself.

I am definitely “why is the music so loud in here I can’t even hear myself think” years old. I am also “get home from work and put on my pajamas” years old. Although honestly, I think that’s just called “making good choices.”

Frankly, sipping and painting and home by 9 p.m. is really my speed these days. Let other people party like it’s 1999. In 1999 I had a toddler and was pregnant and frankly, I loved the idea of 9 p.m. bedtimes and pajamas right after dinner then too.

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Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.

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