23 Going On 65

I think I have reached the point in my life where I can be classified as old. I am not sure how I got here in my short 23 years of life. Is it possible I woke up one morning and instead of singing in the shower to the latest pop tune, I just turned on CNN and eagerly watched the news, without even noticing? I guess it has all been downhill since the 6^th grade when I became obsessed with Readers’ Digest. While all my friends read 17 and Teen People, I read financial tips for heading into retirement and health pointers for pre-menopausal women – both staples for Readers’ Digest. What am I supposed to read while I retire? I guess there is always the large font edition – what a treat!

I am also beginning to display the characteristic signs of technology-pobia. For example, the new application for iPhones, HeyTell, I just can’t seem to figure out. So far it has been described to me as an audio text message or a walkie-talkie. First of all, doesn’t and audio text defeat the purpose of text messaging? As for the walkie-talkie description, do people actually use them still? I have yet to hear a sensible reason for jumping on the bandwagon. As I continue to push back against the forward momentum of technology I am reminded of how much I sound like my mom and her adamant claim that text messages wouldn’t catch on. While on the subject of text messaging another trend I don’t understand is the use of an excessive amount of pictures accompanying a message. Is it supposed to be cute or actually add to the message? When a response of “see you soon” is accompanied by a myriad of symbols like a smiley face (or what I can only assume is a combination of a smiling, laughing and possibly gagging animated character), a car and a building, am I to assume you are happy about meeting me at a building which you will get to via car? There are too many options, and not enough time or energy to read between the lines, or pictures, to figure it out.

Finally, I am ashamed to admit this; I have resorted to wearing sensible shoes. Gasp! Gone are the days where I dreamed about walking down the marble halls in Christian Louboutin’s or Jimmy Choo’s. Those dreams vanished after I fell down the stairs not once, but twice. I have become the queen of flats and shoes with good arch support. The only thing I have left to look forward to are Dr. Scholl’s insoles and the solid black shoes with the Velcro on top. Bring on the Aerosoles and socks that stick out awkwardly above the top of the shoe.

Since it appears to be 9:45pm it is time for me to go to bed and put on my night cream, flannel nightgown, matching slippers and silently curse the youngins next door who play their guitar late into the night.