Thursday, May 2, 2013

The Tell-tale Signs of Aging

The signs have been cropping up everywhere lately, but they've been so subtle as to have a shocking impact once deciphered. It's like living in an M. Night Shyamalan movie. The clues were there all the time...I just didn't know what they meant until Bruce Willis' hand passed through the door knob. So how do I know I'm getting old, you ask? Just let me count the ways...

When flipping through the tabloids, I don't know who's being sacrificed for my amusement. There was one of those trashy magazines behind the counter at work, and I was disappointed to find I couldn't properly indulge in all the cruel things being said because I didn't know who the hell they were talking about. What's more, when I did recognize a name or a face, I actually felt bad for the person being humiliated. I mean...who cares if Kim Kardashian's armpits are fatter than usual? I guess time has eroded my inclination to fry ants with a magnifying glass.

Let's see. What else?

When I eat like a half-starved dinosaur, my clothes shrink. All those people clucking "enjoy it while you can" weren't lying when they said it would catch up with me one day. It seems like all I have to do anymore is think about a cupcake and my pants get tighter. It's a big problem for me because I take so much pleasure in eating that one might call it a perversion. I'd choose a slice of cheesecake over Johnny Depp every day of the week, and twice on Sunday!

More importantly...

Looking back, I feel sorry for the unabashed retard that is my younger self. It's a feeling that gets renewed on a daily basis. Maybe it's true that I wake up every day a little bit wiser than the day before, but The World didn't get that memo. In fact, I'm a little suspicious that The World takes some kind of sadistic pleasure in reminding me that I'm just one clueless idiot among billions. Don't get me wrong, though! There's peace in knowing I'm just a regular ol' Joe like everybody else. It takes the pressure off and allows me to be human, despite my parents' insistence that I'm like, literally, the best-est ever. 

...which brings me to my next point. I have a new found liking for patronizing people younger than me. Seriously, you could be 23 years old, and I would still act like the secrets of the universe aren't revealed until your twenty-fourth birthday. Just when I thought I was over the whole know-it-all thing, it scampered off into a dark corner of my brain and disguised itself as the condescending shepherd of all humans under 24. For some inexplicable reason, I have a deep, desperate need to spare them the lifelong burden of shame that comes with blowing all your grocery money on margaritas.

One day, I'll have children to unload all this nonsense onto. Won't that be nice? They'll be my personal receptacles for all the things I think I've learned. I bet they'll think I'm really smart, too. I'm sure they'll wake up every morning, give me a big fat hug and say, "Thanks, Mom."

 And so it goes, ad infinitum...

1 comment:

  1. Just wait til you're 24.83 years old...