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Getting Old....Revisted...Again

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You ever go to a bar and see a 40 something year old lady all bein' loud and shakin' her boobs and stuff? You know you have and you know it's sad and totally disturbing. I mean, I'm totally that chick now, but I'm just in my baby year 30's.

Here's my question.....At what age are you really crossing the line? I always feel kinda bad for "those" ladies. I wanna sit them down and tell them, "People aren't watchin' you because they find your floppin' flapjacks arousing, they're watching you like they would watch a train wreck. They just can't look away from the tragedy". That would be mean though right? Who am I to judge how a lady gets her kicks? But really, 40 is NOT the new 30.....there comes a time in all of our lives when you just gotta hang your boobs up and give 'em a rest.

I started thinking about this today because our annual St. Patty's drunken day is this weekend and I'm not sure I'm totally up for it. Every year we go to Johnnie MacCracken's on the square and get totally pissed. It's the most fun you can have with your clothes on. Even though last year, well...nevermind. Although I won't divulge on that story, I will tell you that last year I drank so much I got lost and I've been to MacCracken's MANY, MANY times. Like a kazillion times over the years. Yep, totally LOST. Well, not totally, I was just out back in the alley, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out how to get back where I had just come from.

Anyhow. This year I'm just not as excited as usual. I dread the crowd. I dread all the people bumping into me. I dread all the people touching my hair (this pushed my over the edge a couple weekends ago). I dread wreaking of cigarettes and stale beer. At least I rarely have hangovers so that's not on my list of dreads.

Seriously though. Am I getting old? It seems like the the list of dreads is kinda outweighing the rest. Am I already one of "those" ladies? Is my inner self filling me with all this dread because it's trying to tell me something? I have no idea. I do know however that this Saturday you will most likely find me at MacCracken's, Lord knows how deep in Irish car bombs, checkin' underneath kilts trying to answer that age old question and I'll for sure be all loud and shakin' my boobs and stuff!

(Last year....they really don't wear anything under there!)

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Lori said…
You are never crossing that line as long as you don;t care about the table of chic 20-somethings being snotty in the corner table laughing at you. Who is having more fun is the important question to ask yourself.
March 31, 2009 at 8:36 PM
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