Gettin old. Part two.

Another post about getting old.

I might be obsessing a bit. I know that “40 is the new 20” (HEAVY on those quotation marks) but as I head into my 35th year, it sure doesn’t feel like it. There are all kinds of things that I could do when I was in my twenties that my body isn’t having now.

1)     Drinking cheap liquor.  I used to be able to chug any ol’ swill the bartender would throw at me. And not get hung-over. I mean, it could have been in a jug with XXXX marked on it and I could drink it and be fine. I would even be fine the next day.  And ya’ll, when I partied, I used to get duh-runk.  Not drunk, duh-runk.   Now?  Nope. One, I can’t make it past tipsy anymore. Two, the last time I tried to do cheap stuff I stated to get hung-over while drinking it.  This wasn’t after a few drinks, folks.  I was on drink one with this crap and I was seriously getting ill.  (I won’t name the brand but it rhymes with Bonarch.) Or the time I went to someone’s house and they served Alco-pop in wine form, and I drank it to be polite. (Also because the only person there I liked was the host, so I had to drink something.)  I drank two glasses of that mess. In my twenties, I would have been able to drink it and it would have been all good. But since I was thirty-three at the time, I got a headache so bad I was convinced that I had all of a sudden developed a brain tumor.

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This. I’m sure some of the bars I went to served this. And I drank it.

2.     Not sleeping.  Confession:  Sleeping is one of my favorite pastimes, followed closely by napping and dozing.  But when I was in my twenties (early twenties—I was married with two kids by the time I was 25) I could go out, party, sleep for a couple of hours, and then go to work. Once I went home, showered, and then went straight to work.   Now?? Ain’t happenin, Jack.   If I get six hours of sleep, I can function—barely.  Four hours of sleep and my brain begins liquefaction and starts to trickle out of my ear.

3.     Losing weight.  No lie, when I was 22 I stopped eating red meat for a while and lost 27 pounds.  That was it, I just stopped eating one thing.  I don’t want to give the wrong impression here—I wasn’t eating any healthier.  I still ate Popeye’s chicken, McDonald’s fries, Ivar’s fish and chips, Baskin Robbins’ ice cream—I ate crap, is what I’m saying.  Exercise? Not even.  These days, if I want to lose five pounds I have to give up anything delicious.  Diet food can be good, or even tasty, but let’s face it—it is never delicious.   I have to pretend like I don’t hate exercise.  And I have to do these things for weeks. And if I stop for a couple of days, I gain it all back plus five. 

4.     Flexibility.  When I was 26, I took up yoga for a few months.  I actually got pretty flexible within that amount of time. I was no contortionist, but I could place both my hands flat on the ground behind my feet.   But a few weeks ago, I started having to stretch because of that herald of aging:  back pain.  Every single time I do the stretches, I feel like the Tin Woman trying to touch her toes. Every. Single. Time.

It’s okay though. Because one thing I can do now, I couldn’t do then—not care what other people think about me and what I do or what I have. (Well, it’s easy for me not to care about what I have. Thanks to Kid Sensation and the Destroyer, I can’t have anything nice. NOTHING.)

I also have Spanx. Seriously, you guys. I love Spanx.

 

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Hey Dummy! Or words for my younger self.

I know that I have referred to The Destroyer as a twelve-year-old, but in reality he turns twelve  on Saturday.  Which has prompted me to reflect on some things.  Mainly on the fact that I am getting old. Yeah, I know that people who are even a year older than I am will tell me all about how I don’t know what old is; but the fact remains that if I squat down, something will pop or crack on my way up.  Or I may choose to sit all the way down to avoid that whole situation.

Anyway, as I mature (ahem), I think about all the things I wish someone had told me when I was younger.  I have decided to share.  Climb into my time machine and we’ll visit young Vida together:

1.) It’s okay to have an epidural.  It’s okay not to have an epidural.  Labor and Delivery doesn’t give out medals–all they care about is that you and baby are safe.

2.) Enjoy that metabolism while you can, sweetheart. 

3.) You will never look the same way those girls do when you jog.  You can still jog, just don’t think you’ll look like that. 

4.) Get drunk at home. Trust me, it will save you a TON of embarrassment.

5.) Don’t worry about what your friends say–it’s okay to like White boys.  Trust me on this one, too. 

6.) If he really cares about you, he won’t make you do it.  (Drugs, sex, watching Hot Tub Time Machine.)

7.) Call people (parents, professors, the bank) to let them know what’s going on. Nine times out of ten they’ll cut you break.

8.) No, you don’t want to be Lil’ Kim.

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To be fair, she used to be a young black woman. Now I think she’s part dragon or something. I don’t know.

9.) You don’t particularly want to be Lauryn Hill, either. You tax situation will turn out better than hers.

10.)  You’re not your mother.  Thank God. (Although my mom is pretty awesome.)

11.)  Your daughter won’t be you. Thank God.

12.) You can get addicted to coffee. (And still are.)

13.) He’s not the right guy for you.  And that’s okay because:

14.) You won’t hate him forever.

15.) Buy good shoes.  You have flat feet, and the cheap ones hurt.

16.) You’re not fat.

17.) Stop comparing yourself to her.  You’re not her.

18.) She’s not you. 

19.) Shut up and be awesome.  It’s easier than you think.

20.) ALWAYS be grateful.  No one has to do anything for you.  Not even your mom.

21.) You can always go somewhere else. (I have found this works for any bad situation–job, relationship, slumlord apartments.)

22.) Bacon Sundays.  With mimosas.  Make it a thing for the rest of your life.

23.) Popularity is overrated. 

24.) A few good friends=best thing in the world.

25.) Enjoy nudity as much as possible before you have kids.  Kids like to poke things–fun for them, not for you.