It’s time for Search Ironic Mom, when I take an actual search term that led some poor suspect to my blog, and I attempt answer it.
Today’s search term question concerns aging.
Dear Ironic Mom,
Signed,
Younger-Than-You-Are
Dear Younger-Than-You-Are:
I know quite a bit about aging, since I’ve been doing it for the last 41 years. Here are 5 signs you’re getting old:
Best of luck,
Ironic Mom
What other signs of aging would you add?
You get to fridge and forget what you wanted.
You can’t remember where you put the to-do list, the shopping list or the car keys.
You don’t know any of the songs on the station the mechanic tuned the car radio to.
You only wear high heels on special occasions.
High heels? Yes. I’ve worn those…
You get to the comment box and can’t remember what you wanted to say about that thingy you just read.
Sorry. What did you say?
Your best cleavage is literally behind you now in the form of a butt crack that goes all the way up to your shoulder blades (which is most noticeable when packed into a pair of tight jeans).
Bwahaha.
When you forget what age you are. The whole year I was 46 I thought I was 48 – that is scary! Oh yeah and that was only yesterday – I mean tomorrow….
Ha. I hear you. And don’t even start me on remembering how many years I’ve been married…
You start telling 20 somethings what’s wrong with them because you forget what a train wreck you were at that age.
True this, sir. As a teacher, I constantly have to remind myself how messed up I was at my students’ age. It helps with that whole “grace” thing. 🙂
So so true. My cousin and I looked back at our penpal letters when we were 13 (we both teach middle school now). Guess what? ALL we talked about were boys. And here we thought we were so much more mature…
So true! I stumbled across my diaries from high school a few days ago. Read ’em all, alternately cringing and laughing at the girl I was. I had forgotten how earnest and boy-crazy I was. I had forgotten how angst-filled my teenaged years were. Well, how angst-ridden I felt, anyway.
You talk wistfully of the days of your favorite ’80s celebrities, only to be met by blank looks from your Millennial co-workers.
Yes. Way-back-when, that time when cameras had film.
There’s the problem of losing the to-do lists, or worse, your glasses.
And then you find them in your cleavage. One, or the other, or theoretically… all of the above.
You crack me up.
Great post Leanne. Signs I’m getting old:
– Ear hair maintenance is now a part of my regular routine.
– I find daily that my metabolism seems intent on me being fat…and I gradually lose the urge to resist.
– Whenever I hear “bass thumping” I angrily try to try to find the source of it and stop it, immediately.
“Ear hair maintenance.” Bodies are such hilarious things.
I quote pretty much every comment, adding (sorry if i missed it) “searching the entire house for the glasses on your head”, “messing up names like Jodie-Julie-Janet… i’m sure it starts with a J” and the never ending “asking others to guess your age” (my dad -I know i already mentioned him but hey- once guessed and added +5 to the actual age of the woman in front of him, didn’t end well)
Your poor dad! Yes…looking for glasses. That is good.
That popping sound you hear is a body part, most likely a joint.
You begin talking back – out loud – to the voices inside your head.
You fight the temptation for a nap BEFORE lunch, not just after.
Hate to tell you, but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. :>) Thanks for the giggles.
Thanks, Diana. My joints already crack loudly. I’m in trouble…
Funny! I don’t recognize most folks in People Magazine. What does that say about me?
It says we’d get along just fine. 🙂
You go to a dinner party and physical ailments and/or health become a main topic of conversation.
Oy, my neck!
Ha! Quite bizarrely, I was at a dinner party a couple of weeks ago and we all had our iPhones out and were sharing our favourite apps… I was the youngest person by nearly a decade. Age range? 41-63. Surreal, but fun.
Don’t you think it’s rude of you kids to talk about me that way? You’re all guessing what it’ll be like to be old. Let me tell you.
Damn! Where’d I put that list of things I was gonna tell you.
And the “when I was your age…”
You don’t recognized anyone in any magazine, lol.
You constantly forget the grocery list. Sometimes you forget groceries altogether.
You stop talking in the middle of a sentence and your kid has to finish it for you.
Great post and replies!
Your first one has me laughing out loud!
Can’t remember whether I actually took [insert applicable vitamin, pain killer, antihistamine, tums … etc].
My friends and I talk about real estate!
TWO glasses of wine, that’s crazy talk.
Shoot me now! I just bored myself silly.
Real estate. Good one.
“I remember when YOU WERE BORN!” I love saying that.
Attending college at the ripe ol’ age of 38 makes me feel old. In no particular order, these are some of reasons why:
1.I don’t use a cell phone. I own one, but left it at a friend’s place two months ago and keep forgetting about it.
2. I can spell.
3. I say things like, “I’ve been driving a car longer than you’ve been alive, ” and “I’m pretty sure I dated your dad in 9th grade.”
4. Uggs. I just. don’t. get. ’em.
5. Last Saturday, DH and I spent the evening HAPPILY building Lego castles and reading. From a book. like. The paper kind. And went to bed, exhausted, at 11 p.m.
I’m sure there are more, but it’s late and honestly? I can’t remember.
“I can spell.” Bwahaha.
When someone joins your workplace who wasn’t born when you joined it.
When you can’t drink your own age in Steinlagers without falling over (I know what I said…)
Of course, when I turned 40 I told my wife I felt like a couple of 20 year olds, but she said I wouldn’t be able to run fast enough to catch them.
So who is that Bieber guy again? Any relation to Lemmy?
Matthew
Matthew – for the first one – I hated when people joined my workplace that were born after my children!!! That stung!
Yes, my new teaching partner wasn’t even walking when I started university. She’s great, though!
Yikes. Those are hitting a bit too close to home! FYI, that gobbledygook that is second from the bottom on your search terms looks like Serbian/Cyrillic writing…you’ve made it, baby!
I get quite a bit of that script. I *have* made it!
When you seriously consider buying one of the infomercial doohickeys that rests on your chest with a chin rest so you can push against it to strengthen neck muscles and look 10 years younger.
Not saying I purchased one, but…
If I HAD, I would want my money back.
When you choose to walk fast on the treadmill versus jog b/c of certain female-vanity glands (located between neck and waist). Many reps with weights to perk them up, you fear the boing, boing impact of jogging will lengthen the support system.
Gloria, you crack me up! Hilarious!
For me it was when I started equating event timelines by the birth of my kids! Used to drive me nuts when my mum did it…now I’m doing it 😆
Love this post idea, absolutely brilliant.
Thanks, Raelyn. Yes. I do that with the Calgary Flames. They were last in the Stanley Cup finals the year my kids were born…
You start using a lot of Yiddish terms.
“Oy gevult. My hips ache.”
🙂
Um, that one sign above? The one about braiding chin hairs? If it read “eyebrows” instead you would have me dead to rights. Seriously, why is this? Why do aging men generate extraneous hairs like this? I could braid my eyebrows with my eyelashes, and wouldn’t that be a sight!
That’s quite the image, all right! I’m not sure what it is about stray hairs. I’m going to grow out my one chin hair and put a bead on it…
You actually start acknowledging the potential benefits of The Clapper and the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed.
I only know what the latter is (the former sounds like a disease!)
Calling kids by the pet’s name and vice versa.
Going into a room and forgetting why.
Seriously, my neighbor just rang my doorbell because I left my mail box key in the key slot at the community mailbox – three hours ago!
I’m stopping there, thank you very much! 🙂
Yes…and putting the milk away in the pantry.
Great work, Leanne!
I’m glad i had some free time to check you out!
Your blog, I mean!
Nice double entendre, TH!