Now that I’ve hit the big 3-0, I find myself thinking that I’m too old for things. I proudly wore my hot pink patent leather boots all of last winter, but it crossed my mind that maybe I shouldn’t. I very much want a streak of inappropriate color running through my hair, but I’m a mom who drives a minivan for crying out loud.
I was recently quite surprised to find that cartwheels are completely out of the question. That was a painful lesson. And the the other day, during a swim, I ventured into the deep end and did one of those underwater front-flips that I used to do as a carefree child. Do you remember this, Kelli? As kids, we used to get in the deep end of the pool and count how many flips we could do before we ran out of air. Well, I did one at 30 and came up with a case of vertigo and an almost misplaced lunch. What happened?
This week, I’m working at a Children’s Performing Arts Camp at church. On several occasions some of our women have made statements alluding to how old they are. You know, “my memory isn’t what it used to be”, “we don’t have the energy you guys do, cause we’re so old”, that sort of thing. I know I might be a little younger than the woman making these statements, but I still think I might be finding myself offended. Now, please know that these women are trying to be cute, they’re joking around pretty playfully with the kids. I do remember being a kid, though, and I remember these statements being made then. They terrified me. Oh, the awful things that will happen when I get old!! The thing is, I’m not positive when “old” happens. I do know that my inability to do a cartwheel and then walk a straight line would definitely have qualified me, if you have asked my childhood self. But I also know that childhood me would not have thought that the lady with blue streak in her hair was old.
Maybe it’s time to call my hairdresser.