Monday, May 01, 2006

thirty three POW.

Last Thursday night I was walking into a bar to meet some friends. As I entered the doorway I tried to get by three guys that seemed to all be looking at me in the way that you get looked at when somebody is waiting for a response from you..."can we see your ID?" the one with the larger of all three sets of muscles said to me. I wasn't even thinking, because I...well, I was drunk. (I highly suggest the hour of power at Jolly Joe's- ANY shot $1. ANY SHOT. ANY.)

I reached into my pocket to get my driver's license and at the same time the door dudes were guessing back and forth to each other what my age is..."23!" one said. "25" the other replied as the third dude stood looking at me like he's the man with the microphone at the "guess your weight, win a prize" carnival attraction.
"oooh, good guesses!, Thirty three." I said.

Ok now. What I really need to do is tape the expression on people's faces when I tell them (or they find out) how old I am. Granted, these guys might've been trying to hit on me. BUT, at least the rest of the general public that looks young (and I know they exist) would buy it.
Here's what it looks like from this angle; a bunch of OOHS AND AHHHS. They look around and punch whoever is standing next to them like the half-snake, half-lady straight up off the sideshow midway is standing right there. Oy, only now can they indeed say they've seen it all. Women get jealous sometimes... Then the compliments (thank you) and the questions: 'are you married?", "ever been married?", "have any kids?" interestingly enough to end every time with the unremitting game of "OH, HOW OLD DO YOU THINK iiIiiiee AM?!"
It's not just that. I often feel like I have to bring the fact that I am OVER 30 up in many situations and conversations.

I was talking to my mother about it the other day and she recalled a few instances when she was out with me and my brothers and how people would treat her thinking she was not even old enough to have three kids. -She looked very young too. I remember when I was in first grade, I told everyone that my mom was 40. She was actually 24 or 25. She showed up at a confrence and the teacher was looking for a 40 year old. She's laughing at me as I continue to talk...
I told her of a situation I ran into earlier where I felt like I was unintentionally called "not an adult", in a way that I could not supervise activities at a place where others aren't allowed to be "if there is no adult present". I understood that part but the day earlier the only adult present was me. In this case I understand that there needs to be rules and I don't want to call attention to the conversation had. I find no fault with the other person I was speaking to, they didn't mean to insult me.

I have to be careful when I feel that need to defend the many many many years that I have been alive. It's really my problem and I have to remember that I do not need to outwardly call attention to something that's my deal. I have made choices that I will never regret and I've shaped a life much different than much of the rest of my peers. I'm comfortable with it. It works for me. Kiss didn't name the song "Christine Sixteen" for shits-and-giggles. Christine's just 33 now.

I have nothing against the "big ideal", really. I think about having my own little girl riding a pony someday...I think of it. It just hasn't been the right time for me I guess. - I might need a kid because Christmas is getting bOOorrring, and I'm running out of things to take photos of.

Did I mean it to be like this? eh. I don't know. I think I ran from every perspective offering of babies, houses in the suburbs, getting my nails filled, using hairspray, and credit cards for Talbots. I'm more interested in that $5,000 Hermes saddle than that $5,000 diamond bracelet (I like them too, but not as important as HORSES.)
When the girls I graduated with were on their first honeymoon, I was at some phish show tripping on acid and in love with my life. Yes. I have responsibilities and I strive to move ahead in life. I have grown up and I have to giggle when I think about that one hot night somewhere in Virginia where I told myself that I NEVER stop doing acid. Because now, I don't want to do any acid. Hell. I want to protect my credit, and make sure my car payment is on time. I took off the hemp necklaces and yes, I wear makeup again...MAC makeup. And black stilettos (when the need arises)...But I'm still a hippy.

Where I'm at? well, who ever coined "supposed to.." would say I made alternative choices. I don't have to call divorce lawyers or babysitters. Even Economically I fall through the cracks. I can't get Medicade or $3,000 back from my taxes (hey, I understand that's not alot when you have kids) because I don't have any children, and I'm not disabled. I put a hatchet in my foot by accident and I get NO HELP- just working a full time job like every other responsible single american adult living practically paycheck to paycheck and I have an accident. Health care is not even available at my All-American FULL TIME JOB.

Socially, it's sometimes entertaining. I can be involved with a wide range of mixes. I know the proper boundaries of when I can get away with saying "shoot" instead of "shit". I know what a Bratz doll is and 50cent's new song, but I also hold my own in a conversation about Surrealistic Art or pending litigation. Sometimes "the adults" worry about me. I think my mom get inundated with inquisitive aunts and friends saying "does Christine have a boyfriend yet?" or better, to add insult to injury... "do you have any grand-childrend yet?"

I'm not sure what I have to do to look older psysically. I'm pretty sure the answers are: to wear shoes that make noise when I walk, to purchase one of those cheesy goddy six carat 24k gold tone rings at kaufmann's and make up an husband, to dress with pants that come up to my real waist, to layer base coat makeup so thick on my face so that it looks like I'm hiding wrinkles, wine and cry until the grass gets cut "BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN. I DON'T CUT GRASS"? Did anyone say hairspray? uhh, what else? OH! get rid of the Jetta and Buy a minivan and stock it with carseats? fake carseats? from the thrift store?

NOOOOOO thanks.

I'm here to tell you. I'm alright with my house that's never been kid proofed, my stumbling in drunk at 4am, and the dirt scattered across my kitchen floor, and being taken for an early twentysomething. Being alone while sick is another whole story.

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