I remember being pretty excited when I turned 10 – the whole double-digits thing – but life otherwise didn’t shift much from being 9.
I don’t remember 20 feeling all that different from 19. I was still in college, I could still vote, and I was still an adult who couldn’t legally purchase an adult beverage.
Thirty definitely felt different. It gave me a little boost of confidence. Although I was still usually the youngest in the corporate meeting rooms at my job with a Really Big Oil Company, I felt like I had more credibility with a 3 in front of my age instead of a 2.
Forty happened at a jazz club in Portland with a few friends. Having no real specific life goals for 40, I deftly avoided any crises about what I was doing with my life. Instead, I quite enjoyed the mid-life milestone while at the same time not really noticing any significant changes for several years.
Fifty, however, has been a little weird. Although I was absolutely ready to embrace it and embark on this new decade with as much authenticity and acceptance as possible, there have already been a few notable surprises.
- Until recently, I had no idea I live in a blissfully clueless pop culture bubble.
A few weeks ago, Rob and I were flipping channels and landed on a cable showing of “Austin Powers.” We had last seen the movie when it was in the theaters, so it had been a decade…or two.
The flick was quite amusing…even more so now than in 1997 due to its quaint no-longer-modern-day references. But what shocked me was what happened during the commercial breaks on this totally-new-to-me cable channel we had parked on.
Viceland is, in a word, raunchy. I’m really not a prude – I can hold my own in Cards Against Humanity – but I was dumbfounded by the profanity, nudity, and general ick in the name of self-expression of the ads for Viceland’s original programming.
Having never found a reason to visit millennial-targeted channels before, I had no idea such a world existed with such ease and apparent normality. As I sat on the couch with my jaw literally dropped, I suddenly felt every one of my 50 years…plus a few more.
“How is this a thing?!? Do parents know this stuff is on the most basic of cable packages?!? I don’t want to see this. Is this really what the world is now? It’s gross. Does this stuff actually sell? Is this the world 20-somethings really live in these days?”
It was very loving of Rob not to bring me a cardigan with tissues tucked in the sleeves.
- More body parts are hurting and the pain takes longer to go away. In just the past three months, I have waited out – an average of about a week each – weird jaw pain, toe pain, and thumb pain. I’ve also noticed that my “good” knee now aches more often than my surgicalled ACL one. Fantastic.
- My skin is changing without warning or permission. I have suddenly – since January – developed some sort of allergy to sunscreen and am amassing quite an array of barely used mineraled and chemicaled lotions in search of something that will protect my skin from both UV rays and itchy bumps. Ummm, thanks for the new hobby, Universe.
- A friend about 5 years younger than me is about to become a grandma. As someone who doesn’t have kids, I only recently realized that I look like the mom of my 20-something friends instead of the older sister or aunt that I’ve fancied baristas have assumed. The idea of being old enough to be a grandma absolutely does not compute in this silver-topped head.
- Several days ago, I was stunned to discover that holding a menu about two feet away from my eyes actually makes the tiny print more readable. I figure I’m about a year away from determining I need longer arms.
- I’m really not in much of a hurry these days. For anything. Because for the most part, I don’t have the energy to rush. Today I was quite happily stuck behind a school bus, enjoying my music, beverage, and sunroof. It was rather relaxing and required little output from me. Why have I not realized the gift of slow school buses before?
- I am increasingly mystified instead of inspired by advances in technology.
Last week, we upgraded our DVR so that we could choose a cheaper “a la carte” satellite package since we don’t watch that much TV. The upgrade came with a remote that is voice-activated. Meaning, I now must talk to my remote control to record a show (I just changed that from “tape a show” because 50-year-olds remember when shows were preserved on magnetic tape in VCRs and Betamaxes).
I was quite content setting up recordings the old way, using an on-screen keyboard and direction arrows on my remote. Even though now using my remote like a walkie-talkie is admittedly easier, I have been strangely resistant to having to change for change’s sake.
In related news, Rob just turned on a new cooking gadget in our kitchen using an app on his phone. He was about 5 miles from Woodhaven at the time.
The gadget is part of this newfangled concept of something called “The Internet of Things” (abbreviated IoT for the tech-savvy lingo hipsters). A friend in his early 50s recently tried to explain the concept to me, he being an HP engineer who has been tasked with understanding, incorporating, and engineering new products in this realm.
Jeff and I commiserated on wondering why such technology was really necessary, other than to keep him employed. I mean, wouldn’t an ON-OFF switch on the gadget work just as well as a mandatory phone app?
Nevertheless, the gadget does amazing things to steak so we bought one despite superfluously needing a cellphone to operate it. I’m grateful it didn’t require us to update our phones' operating system. We’re at least a year behind because the old iOS is working just fine on our ancient iPhones, thankyouverymuch.
It’s hard to say what the next few months of Being 50 have in store for me. It’s a tad concerning that in just three months I seem to have aged at least as many years. On the bright side, I've also noticed my memory isn't as sharp so maybe I'll eventually forget how old I actually am.
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