|Photo credit: Patrick Hoesly|
Anyway, I've decided that anyone who makes that joke anywhere near me in the next year has to buy me a drink. Because that joke is old enough to order its own drinks.
Consider yourselves warned.
Also? Because of the migraines, my drink of choice is a Shirley Temple, so if you decide to test me, just be sure you have the stones to walk up to a bar and order me a little girl's drink. Because do not fuck with me. I like my Shirley Temples and I have been dreading having to listen to that geriatric joke for weeks now.
(Side note: On the season finale of The Mindy Project, she ordered a Shirley Temple with vodka. How delish does that sound? When I'm able to start drinking again, that may become my drink.)
So yeah, birthdays, whatever. Hooray for being alive for another year! I don't have any time for the whole poor me, I'm so old bullshit. I have to restrain myself from telling people to shut it when they start up with that on Twitter or wherever.
The first time I was called ma'am? I was 19. Big fucking deal. The guy was being polite.
My first gray hair? My early 20s. I started dyeing my hair shortly after that and haven't seen my natural hair color since. I took it as a chance to have fun instead of trying to recreate my natural color. I kinda feel like I'm too old to go pink for the first time, but we'll see. (If I'd had pink hair for years, I'd have no problem keeping it pink, but switching to pink now just seems undignified. And I am all about the dignity.)
My first orthopedic problems? Birth, motherfuckers.
My first pair of reading glasses? When I was 19. I wear them over my contact lenses because I'm so nearsighted that if I want to see well enough to drive, I had to give up some of my close vision.
And you know what? There are still people in worse shape than I am. The other day, I saw a woman on the subway wearing coke bottle glasses with her nose literally in the book she was reading. Yes, my mother is in better physical health than I am, but if she and my grandma are anything to judge by, I will wrinkle-free for decades to come. So neener.
My point? Yeah, I totes had a point there. OK, here it is. Our bodies fall apart at different rates. So whining that you can no longer do what someone else could never do is a total waste of time. You're not getting any younger. Go eat some cake.
Or pie. I just saw on the Twitters that canned/cooked blueberries have more antioxidants than raw blueberries, so that means pie is health food now.