When you are 51 years old, your mind is still at 18, well that is in my case. My body tells me something totally different. My body is screaming, HOLD ON THERE LADY, TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH. My mind is cussing my body out, screaming WHY? WHY SHOULD I SLOW IT DOWN? Your mind plays tricks on you. You have two adversaries. The Middle Age Devil vs. Middle Aged Angel.
My devil is saying, GO AHEAD, GO TO MADONNA'S CONCERT. DANCE LIKE A LOON. Wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care. You know who cared? My 21 year old, Gina. She wouldn’t get up with me to dance. I wouldn’t sit still. Hey it’s Madonna right? Well after the dirtiest looks from Gina as if she was saying clearly with her face, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?, it wasn’t till near the end where Madonna was singing Express Yourself. Well I was expressing myself, so much that I threw my back out and for about 6 weeks thereafter couldn’t walk straight. I couldn’t even hear a Madonna tune for a while after that. My angel said I TOLD YOU SO. My devil was saying HEY, YOU ARE MADONNA’S AGE AND IF SHE CAN DANCE LIKE THAT SO CAN YOU. What my frickin’ devil mind didn’t consider is, Madonna trains for 4-5 hours a day. Has a personal trainer, and oh yes, a choreographer.
When did I go from Rock and Roll channels to NPR? When did that start? When did I start worrying about junk food to making sure I get my 5 servings a day of vegetables and fruit? OMG, if I don’t have a vegetable or a fruit during the day, I can’t sleep at night.
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Here’s another one. I DVR Jeopardy every night and my Good Old Dave and I won’t go to sleep at night without watching Jeopardy. Notice the ads on Jeopardy are geared for, WAIT FOR IT…………………… Middle Agers.
I really felt it when I attended a Rihanna concert two weeks ago. A sea of kids, and maybe a handful of 40 something and over. In our row was a couple of drunk 20 somethings. One of these 20 somethings, said OH HOW CUTE, YOU REMIND ME OF MY MOM. She reminded me of one of my kids, but that’s another story. As she got drunker, she started calling me Concert Mom. I made the mistake of telling her I was a Grandmother and that was it. I was forever called, in a rather drunken loud form, GRANDMA. How cute it was that Grandma attended a Rihanna concert. Why is that cute? Why is it that you get referred to as Cute when you get older? There’s nothing cute about me and I’m holding onto my Devil 18 self.
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My poor 54 year old hubby was pretending he was pole dancing at an event a few weeks ago just to embarrass his 25 and 27 year old kids in front of their friends. His Devil was saying, GO AHEAD WRAP YOURSELF AROUND THAT POLE AS IF YOU WERE CHANNELING YOUR INNER STRIPPER. His angel was saying, NO DAVE, DON’T DO IT. YOU’LL ONLY REGRET IT TOMORROW. The next day we are walking from to and I notice his limp. I ask him about it and he sheepishly responds by saying he hurt himself on the pole. I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants, another wonderful thing we get to look forward to.
The bottom line is I don’t want to grow up. I have to in certain areas, but I refuse. Just because you hit a certain age doesn’t mean life stops. Go out there and throw your back out or die trying your hardest being you. Be the inner devil. Squash that angel. There’s medication out there for that. Speaking of which, where are my vitamins?
