As yet another birthday looms over the horizon, I find myself sounding like my parents, lamenting about the increasingly more rapid passage of time, and standing here wondering how my brain could still be 42, but my body is apparently my brain’s much-older sister.
I remember clearly turning 30. I loved turning 30. I felt, as Tammy would put it, “fully growed.” (For those of you who don’t understand the reference, go rent “Tammy and the Professor.” Now that‘s romance.) I wasn’t a “girl” anymore, but neither was I a “ma’am.” I looked 28, and had the confidence that youth provides simply by being young. And 40 was fabulous. 40 felt sophisticated, womanly, maybe even a little MILF-y. 50, however, was tough. 50 was so…FIFTY. (On my birthday, my dad stated, with just a hint of snark, that “You know you’re old when you hit 50.” I replied, “No, actually you know you’re old when your KIDS hit 50.” I know, we should be in therapy, but we blunder on…)
Flash forward, five years later. Seated at my favorite local Mexican restaurant with a group of girlfriends on my birthday, and I noticed the menu offered several specials to “seniors” (ouch!) at 55. Disregarding the unnecessary and vaguely insulting “senior” designation, I whispered to the waitress that it was my birthday and since today I turned 55, I would like to order from the “special menu.” Big mistake.
With the practiced speed that only 1000 repetitions could provide, she snapped her fingers and the ENTIRE staff instantly descended upon our table to sing a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday to Youuuu!, applauding enthusiastically (with the rest of the patrons at the packed restaurant) at my initiation into the “Senior Senoras Club.” Please God, just open up the earth and suck me to hell. Never mind. I’m already there.
By now, my group was roaring with unrestrained merriment, wiping their eyes and trying, unsuccessfully, to regain control, but as one slightly younger friend put it, “Every time we looked at your face, we just cracked up all over again.” (Just wait, girl. YOUR birthday is coming soon, and I know exactly what table we’re sitting at.) Over the next 2 hours (and 3 pitchers of margaritas), I sat red-faced and smiling as virtually every single person in the restaurant stopped by on their way out to say happy birthday and “Congratulations!” (apparently being a Senior Senora is like winning some kind of geriatric trophy).
And now it’s almost two years later. My induction into the Senior Club of virtually any restaurant has come and gone. I can order off of any “Honor Menu,” without showing I.D. (sigh), and I’ve learned to ask for senior discounts almost everywhere I shop. (You’d be amazed at the stores that give them if you ask. I’m proud, but I’m also cheap. I ask everywhere.)
At almost-57, on most days I feel strong, vibrant, energetic, and (sometimes) even a little sexy. Some days, though, I feel more like the Velveteen Rabbit. A little worse for wear, fur a bit matted, a lost button or two, stuffing popping out here and there. But then I remember that little bunny was loved. And loved more because he was no longer perfect and new. So the next time Kenny tells me I’m more beautiful now than when we met, I’m choosing to believe him, even if only for that moment. What the hell. It worked for the rabbit.
Oh Happy Birthday and I too have a birthday coming up in a few short weeks. I will be 36 years old and I do know that isn’t necessarily old, but damn do I feel old many days now. But reading your post definitely put a smile on my face and reminded me that age is truly just a number!! :)
So funny. I remember turning 30 I died all that drk brown hair Blonde. Well frirst it was pumpkin orange. Think that was my worst year of adjusting. At 50 I swear my Body fell apart. One day at the Hospital cafeteria I order a coffee had my money out to pay. I gave her the right amount of money an she handed me change back. I looked at her an said this is to much. She said U get the senior discount. But but why. She said with all that grey hair U got to be close. Some month back I went to tha salvation army. An ask for my discount she said U can’t be that old give me a senior moment. I staired at her with a blank look not knowing what to do an she LOL an said that works for me. She know that I had gone with her nephew for a while who was younger an saw Scarlett so thought I was under 50. Not 57. Vikki think of us an wine we only get better with time.
Happy Birthday!! This post is SO FUNNY! We just think you are the greatest and hope you have a FABULOUS celebration! :)-The Dose Girls
Hey girls, Thanks for sharing the laugh! Actually, my birthday isn’t for several weeks, but it’s never to early to start the party! :)
Aw, happy birthday! Enjoy those discounts – I still remember leaving behind the world of student-discounts and thinking I’d have to wait another 30 years until I can enjoy them again. ;)
Vicki, I think you’re a wonderful writer, and I love this post, but to be perfectly honest, I HATE the term ‘MILF’, and I take umbrage at the notion that it’s a flattering term– something to aspire to. Really? Is it flattering if someone says to you, “I’d do you.” I think these terms objectify and demean women, and are part of the culture that permits domestic violence and turns a blind eye to sexual assault. (This military situation is getting attention about 20 years late.) Sory, but I’d want you to tell me, too, if you find something that bothers you in my writing. That said, happy birthday! I’m going to keep reading your stuff, by the way. Good is good, and we don’t have to agree on everything.
Happy birthday to one of the most beautiful, energetic, hysterical, fun, etc. souls I’ve met thus far. 57? You don’t look a day over 55. Seriously, I hope I’m half of what you are when I hit 50! I’m feeling worn out at 45 (might have something to do with having a 6 year old!). ;) Have a wonderful day, ma’am. :D
Couldn’t be more honored to be part of the 50’s with you!! Love your energy and passion for life!! I’ll raise a glass to you on your birthday… I’ll never forget the day! Love ya, girl!! :-)
Enjoy your day – the title Senior Señora is possibly the greatest title that can bestowed upon someone!
I am so happy I found your blog! It really brightens my day! I’m inching ever so close to 50 and I must say – on a good day I might even feel a little GILF-y! And yes, I am flattered when someone else thinks so too! Have a wonderful birthday!!
Well, Happy Birthday to you!!! I’m also a May birthday girl and not doing well with the age I will be turning. I hate birthday’s! I’ve hated since I turned 25.. BLAH..
Come read about what I want to do for my birthday ;)
http://badwordmama.blogspot.com/2013/05/no-not-me-its-not-my-time.html
Hope you have an amazing day
xoxo
Awsoem Vicky!
You have such a magnetic personality that portrays in the blogs that you write.
Age is just a number for you, sista :)
Happpy Happpy Birthday!!
Happy early birthday, Vicki! I love your comparison to the Velveteen Rabbit; I’m going to remember that when I am feeling down about getting older. And then I’ll read your blog, because it always makes me smile :)
Happy Birthday and you don’t look, act, or sound like a day over 35!!!
I’m a couple of years behind you (at 53, I don’t qualify for anything but AARP yet), but when I was on vacation last week, I was standing up on the subway and a seated teenage girl offered me her seat. Made me feel REALLY old :-)
If 40 is the new 30, then 50 must be the new 40. By my reckoning you’re still in your fabulous forties :)
Enjoy, and happy birthday!
Happy Birthday from one Velveteen Rabbit to another. I saw some old pictures of myself and decided that yeah, I was thin and beautiful back then, but I was also on the wrong path, unhappy, and didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
Now I’m thick and beautiful, on a higher road, happy… even if I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m just doing it all and enjoying myself while I’m at it!
Happy birthday! This is such a great post :)
Happy Happy Birthday! What I wouldn’t give to have been at that special birthday celebration; sounds like you have a great group of gal-pals to celebrate with you.
I can so relate now that I’m in my 50’s. My brain says I’m at least 10 years younger but my body is forcing me to believe I’m 10 years older…grrrr! Who to believe?