Age creeps up on you.
One day you’re hanging out at the clubs squeezed into your micro mini and six-inch stilettos, with super glossy lips, and ultra-big hair. You eat what you want and hate exercise. You have all the time in the world to take life seriously, but in that moment you buy another round of spirits and dance until closing with yet another charming new face. Then you look for something else to do, because the night is still young, and you have five good hours left before dawn.
It seems like you wake up the very next day and you’ve got crow’s feet and dimples in not so cute places. You’re exhausted because you stayed up until midnight watching the news, and need caffeine to kick-start any chance of momentum for the day. You prefer to wear comfortable yoga pants and good walking shoes. You have one kid engaged and looking for a home of her own, another who needs deodorant and now notices boobs, and a baby who is offended by that degrading term.
Somehow twenty years went by in the blink of an eye. Somehow things have got all turned around.
With the super-fantastic technology of PVR, I recorded a recent Oprah show, “Teen Heartthrobs.” The guests included a middle-aged, plumb-ish Shaun Cassidy, and very old (but still remarkably hot) Peter Frampton. It was so weird to see them as old men instead of those hotties I remember. And I had to ask myself – my god – am I middle-aged??? I was shocked. When the hell did that happen?
I know, you’re only as old as you feel, and to be young at heart is the key to a youthful spirit…ya-ya, I get it. But this realization just feels weird and wrong. Thanks a lot Oprah.
I don’t like it, not one little bit. I boycott aging! Hell no, I won’t go! Who’s with me?
See Peter still rockin’ it at sixty:
See Shaun still charming the crowd: