I am 52-years-old. That means that I have also been 22-years-old. If you have not yet experienced both, believe me when I tell you that 52 is not 22. In fact, the two ages barely speak the same language.
Here are just a few examples of how the same words can mean entirely different things depending on your age:
The Law of Gravity
- at 22: g = 9.81 m/s2
- at 52: For every Spanx Booty-Booster Bodysuit (with the Lycra-Lift-&-Separate-Posterior-Panel), there is an equal and opposite reaction.
- at 22: blonde streaks in the hair caused by the sun; enhanced by the application of a little lemon juice.
- at 52: blonde streaks in the hair caused by the hairdresser; enhanced by the application of Clairol Nice & Easy Frost & Tip in Lemon Blonde.
- at 22: a honey-gold tint to the skin acquired by spending time in the sun.
- at 52: why, oh why did 22-year-old me not listen to all that crap about sunscreen?
Period of mourning
- at 22: A time of grief following the death of a loved one.
- at 52: A time of grief following shopping for bathing suits. Aka: summer.
- at 22: Something that old people do when they stop working
- at 52: Something that I will never be able to do because of all the old people who have stopped working.
- at 22: Friday night: Dance and drink until 2 in the morning, then spend the rest of the night in front of the toilet.
- at 52: Friday night: Dine and drink until 2 glasses of wine, then spend the rest of the night in front of the TV (in my jammies).
- at 22: My toned, tan, tight self.
- at 52: My sweaty, red, menopausal self.
- at 22: A bright and shining highway of possibilities, stretching endlessly before me.
- at 52: A highway constantly under construction, subject to 10-car pileups and unplanned detours. While away the travel time singing along with the radio, talking and laughing (pick travel buddies carefully). Frequent stops to pay tolls and use the Rest Areas. Occasional emergency stops on the shoulder for crying or speculating on the road not taken.