I was born a little old lady, and now that I’m a scant year away from 40, I am really starting to embrace it.
While I’m not ready to stop coloring my hair, which has been graying since I was nineteen or so, nor am I ready to put a cut-glass bowl of hard candy on a doily any time soon, I am getting more comfortable with being angry and annoyed; I won’t say I’m turning crochety, but I’m willing to back off when the Muppets in my head do battle, and maybe let Kermit and Ernie take it easy when Oscar and Bert want to be heard. (As a lifelong Doormat and People Pleaser, this is a huge step toward maturation, even considering the Muppet metaphor.)
I am also feeling my age when it comes to music. Not in the, “Kids these days, with their hippity-hoppity pants on the ground,” kind of way—though I still can’t help but focus on lyrics and want to kick ass when I hear Kanye say he’d “do anything for a blonde dyke,” (too bad, Kanye, because LESBIANS AREN’T INTERESTED IN YOU), or that guy who’s, “trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful,” (I don’t think he knows what that actually means). No, I’m still plenty troubled by stupid lyrics and sexist sentiments. Here’s one more: “Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack.” WHAT? You got 1500 on your SATs, Ke$ha—I heard you tell Scott Simon on NPR. Why in the WORLD would you say something so stupid and gross?
Sigh. Here’s what I mean about being an old lady when it comes to music: You know that song Low, where someone (maybe Flo-rida?) sings, “She got them baggy sweatpants, and the Reeboks with the straps . . . She hit the floor, next thing you know, shorty get low, low, low, low, low, low , low, low.” I love this song. I love it. And I am now old enough that if I were to hear this song at a wedding (because god knows I won’t be going to a club to hear it), I would dance to it with abandon, not caring at all how stupid I would look. There are a bunch of middle-aged people cutting rugs on my wedding video, and now, fifteen years later, I would join their frumpy ranks with pleasure. (And I think I'd also enjoy the fact that it would mortify The Boy.)
Youth? Suck it. Middle-age may come with a degree of invisibility, which can be disconcerting, but OH the freedom!
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2 comments:
I hate hate hate that song - guess what dude? Calling the other chicks neighborhood whores IS being disrespectful, so you gotta work a little harder for this one? Huh. Life is rough.
I like the song about the bottle of Jack - it's got cool beats - but that thought is sorta gross.
know what other song i LOVE that is totally sexist and revolting? Pitbull's Hotel Room.
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