Never say never
By Susan Passi-Klaus, sklaus@nashvillecitypaper.com
January 19, 2004
This is a youth-oriented society, and the joke is on them because youth is a disease from which we all recover. — Dorothy Fuldheim
I am surrounded by youth. Younger women with gumption, chutzpah and thin thighs. They tell tales of independent travels to hip hangouts in Chicago and New York; they shop the Web’s Urban Outfitters for overpriced thrifty things; and they never miss an episode of The Bachelor or I Love the 80’s.
The young and the restless. They eat sushi and artisan cheeses, wear thong underwear without tugging and belly revealing fashions in the middle of winter. Their butts are tattooed. Their nostrils and navels are pierced. And their bras are padless.
Ahh, youth springs eternal. Not!
Little do these young whipper-snappers know — or admit — what lies ahead of them. And, tee hee, will they be surprised. Hey you, my small-pored, tight-bellied, perky breasted girlfriends, judge not. And never ever, say never. Mark my middle-aged words, there will come a time when:
You will not recognize yourself in the mirror.
You will look and act just like your mother.
Your kids will hate your music and vice versa.
You will not be able to stay up to watch Leno or Letterman. You will be in bed by 10 p.m. or before.
You will shop with coupons.
You will stop wearing high heels and will add cushioned inserts in your Hush Puppies.
You will cut your long hair, try to grow it back, not be able to stand the “between” look, and then go back to keeping it short. Many times.
You will get food stuck in your gums.
Your teenager will say to you, “You just don’t understand.”
Your past will come back to haunt you.
You will hate smoke-filled rooms, especially bars.
You will go to a Neil Diamond concert.
You will listen to nothing but oldies on the radio.
You will say to your kids what you said you would never say to your kids.
You will speak to your children in the voices of your parents.
Your children will wear what you wore when you were young, and they’ll insist it’s “the latest thing.”
You will prefer to stay home on New Year’s Eve and will be in bed before the ball drops.
You will stop dressing up for Halloween.
You will take up gardening.
You will wear a one-piece bathing suit. And maybe even one with a skirt.
You will compare lawns with your neighbors.
You will sag, wrinkle, shake, rattle and have rolls.
You will need Preparation H.
You will stop wearing bikini underwear and will instead wear 100 percent cotton briefs.
You will contemplate plastic surgery.
You will be concerned about fiber.
You will attend and/or host a Tupperware, Pampered Chef or PartyLite party.
You will have to have a colonoscopy.
You will be surprised the first time a younger person calls you “ma’am.”
You will read the obituary section of the newspaper to see if you recognize any names.
You will eventually refuse to ride a roller coaster or ride in anything without a seatbelt.
You will own a cake plate, a melon baller and an apple peeler.
You will become addicted to yard sales.
You will re-gift without shame.
You will stop sleeping in sexy nightwear.
You will opt for cuddling over sex.
You will work for someone much younger and less experienced than yourself.
You will work for less money than you’re worth.
You will go to the grocery store without your makeup on.
You will wear pants with elastic waistbands.
You will not shave your legs unless it’s a special occasion.
You will eventually need glasses.
You will use one of those electric mobile carts to wheel around Home Depot.
You’ll actually be excited about getting the Senior Discount at the movies.
You will receive the AARP newsletter.
You will buy clothes at WalMart.
You will ask for and be excited about receiving household items for Christmas.
You will snore, or marry someone who does.
You will wonder where all the time has gone.
You will deny that you will one day do or feel most, if not all, of the above.