How I Know I’m Getting Old

Getting older is something that just kind of snuck up on me. But one day, it hit me. I am not a young whippersnapper anymore. Just using the term “whippersnapper” speaks volumes regarding my new found “maturity.” How do I know I’m getting old? Let me count the ways.

Grown Adults Could Be My Children

Every year during college football season (because my husband is obsessed with the Michigan Wolverines), I see these big strapping 6′4, 250 pound monsters. I’ll hear something like “Todd Johnson from Florida State, 18 years old.” And I think, if I had kids on the younger end of the spectrum, he could be my son. What the fudge?!? When did that happen!! I no longer look at college-aged men with lust, but with thoughts of being their mother. How sad.

I No Longer Care About Technology

Or social media for that matter. I used to think that old age just took away technological skill and ability. You know, your mental sharpness starts to slowly decline as the years go by. But no, I think older people just don’t care. I used to be so into computers and the latest stuff going on with the interwebs. I even minored in Information Systems in college.

But now, all I care about is turning the computer on, getting on the Internet and checking my email. A few Google searches and some online bill payin’ and I’m good.

I logged into Facebook about 6 years ago, almost reluctantly. And I will most likely die with Facebook.  In the last year or so I’ve finally given Instagram a chance. But that’s it. Sure I’ve heard of Vine, Snapchat, Reddit… and I’m sure there are a dozen other things the kids are using today. But I don’t care to use or even explore anything other than Facebook. I just don’t give a F%#!

I Could Be a Cougar

I watch movies or tv sometimes, and not being dead, I find men attractive. I’ll be all into some actor and then out of curiosity, I’ll look up their age. I’m thinking, he must be 30-31. That’s not so bad. Then the age will come up: 24. Ew. I suddenly feel dirty.

If my husband just up and left me and I was eligible to date and somehow hooked up with the famous objects of my affections, I would be considered a cougar. I’d be robbing the cradle.

But I used to be 24. It seemed like just yesterday. When did 24 become too young for me? Not that I’m trying to date or anything, because I’m married of course. But I can still look and admire. I just don’t like feeling so creepy about it.

I Don’t Understand Dating Practices Of Today’s Youth

I get online dating. I’m totally down with Match.com and the other dating sites. People are busy and online daters are probably no crazier than “real life” daters.

But how do you “meet” and fall in love over Instagram? Do you just like pictures and say “Hey cutie, love your filters.” And then she looks at his Instagram photos and says “Hey, thanks. Wanna date?” And then how do you exchange information without making it public? Is there a private messaging system I don’t know about?

And how the heck do you meet on Instagram, Facebook or a traditional dating site and never really meet in real life. I’m fascinated with the MTV show “Catfish” because it’s so absurd. There will be a kid in their early 20s and the catfish-ee is swooning: “I love him so much. No, we’ve never met, talked on the phone, or even Skyped. But he texts me all the time and I feel like I know him so well from his Facebook posts!” And it’s been 6 years of this! And you’re shocked that he’s a 58-year-old whack job with no car or job and still lives with his mom? Or that she is not really a she but a he? It’s truly incredible.

I Don’t Know How To Dress Anymore

I used to feel comfortable wearing things. Now I look in the mirror and think, “Is this too young?” What is a thirty-cough like me supposed to dress like? Are these shorts too short? Is this shirt too tight? What’s appropriate? I don’t want to look like a 20 year old, but I’m not ready to start dressing like a grandmother either. Oh, the angst!

My Idea Of a Wild Night Has Changed Dramatically

Getting crazy for me is having 2 glasses of wine instead of one. And then it’s lights out two seconds later. Or staying out past 10. When we have a babysitter that is. I’d much rather sit home in my jammies and binge watch on Netflix with the hubby than go to clubs and bars and complain about the music being too loud. I actually did that a couple years ago. That’s when I knew that I had officially moved on.

I Have No Clue About What Young People Are Saying

If I’m reading an article online and read the comments or some kids are talking within earshot, I’ll hear slang being thrown around and wonder “what are they talking about?” If I hear the same terms often enough, I’ll get curious and look it up. From the online Urban Dictionary. That’s right. My ancientness has resorted to me using the Urban Dictionary to understand anyone under 25.

Staying Up All Night Nearly Kills Me

When I was a teenager or even well into my twenties, I could stay up all night for whatever reason and be fine. Maybe a little tired, but it never slowed me down much and I was pretty functional throughout the day. The last time I stayed up all night, I could have passed for one of the Walker zombies from the Walking Dead. Right down to the slow, dragging limping walk and everything. I am a complete wreck without my sleep.

I’m More Aware Of My Own Mortality

I never thought much about aging or my own mortality in my younger years. Not that I was in denial, but it just seemed so far away. But when I had my first child, I suddenly worried about not being around for her. And now my other two as well.

I care more about what I eat and I feel guilty about not exercising enough. I want to be healthy and vibrant for my kids and future grandkids. But I know and am all too aware of that ticking clock that will one day stop ticking. I have so many things I want to do and see and accomplish before I hit the peak of the mountain and start the downward slide. And I feel more of a rush to stop dreaming and start doing. Sometimes I miss the ignorance of youth, but I’m more determined than ever to not waste another minute.

Yes, getting older can kind of suck. Your hair gets grayer (and I pluck every single one), you’re not as energetic and of course you don’t get to live forever unfortunately.

But there are good parts too. I finally know who I am. I often say to myself I wish I had known my true interests and passions years ago so that I could have spent more time exploring them. And I not only know more about myself, I’ve finally accepted myself, flaws and all. I like me now. I couldn’t say that 15-20 years ago. I was too worried about my weight or my hair. Not being pretty enough, “cool” enough, successful enough.

Age has brought a happiness and peace I didn’t have years ago. And that took time, patience and maturity. The life I enjoy now looks a little different than I thought it would. But it’s pretty darn amazing. And if I have to be an oldie but goodie to be able to say that, than I guess getting older isn’t so bad. Well, except for the grays. I’m so over that part.

Featured image © Victor