Headlights are for cars.

The other day my sister was reading some article in AARP about the things you shouldn’t do after age 50.   Why she was even reading AARP I’ll never know – but maybe it called to her since she’ll be turning 50 in less than 3 months.  That in itself is still a little bizarre to me because she doesn’t seem “50”, but on the same note I don’t feel 45.  Since I was just carded in 2 bars in 2 different cities in the past week, I clearly don’t look 45.   I don’t think my sister looks 49 either. I guess Dr. Frost was right when he told us we’d never have wrinkles because we’d always have acne. 

According to this article, here are some of the things people that at 50+ should never do or wear. (I added a few of my own as well)

DON’T DO:

ü  Jell-O shots

ü  Get blasted fall down drunk at the neighborhood bar any night of the week.

ü  Be in a bar that gets closed down by the police.

ü  Go topless – men or women and especially don’t post photos of yourself topless on your online dating profile. 

ü  Karaoke.

ü  Drink champagne from anything other than a glass, i.e:  no shoes.

ü  Get a tattoo – with a guys/girls name on it – or put it in a visible spot.

ü  Collect owls made of shells, ceramic frogs, lawn gnomes or plastic/resin lawn animals. (i.e. deer, geese, squirrels or rabbits). 

DON’T WEAR:

·         Mini skirts, daisy dukes, or anything that has been deliberately diminished or ripped. 

·         Dresses of any kind that make you look like a hooker

·         Stilettos that you think might go with the above dress – or any outfit for that matter

·         Thong underwear.

·         Or not wearing underwear at all

·         Unpadded bras that show your nipples or shelf bras that have no support or just not wearing a bra at all.  

·         See through shirts that show your nipples or the fact that you’re not wearing a bra.

·         Low Rise pants that magnify your butt.

·         Super tight skinny jeans

·         T-shirts that say “Sexy Grandma”, “Vote of Ozzy”, reflect the current holiday (no pumpkins, snowflakes, hearts or easter bunnies)  or have pictures of cute puppies on them

·         And on the same note – carry purses with dogs on them or in them or have any other animal attached to them – alive or not.

·         Gold Chains with your name on them, or thick gold chains that make you look like a pimp.

Okay, I posted this list because I, of course, had to read the article after my sister read it and then over the course of a couple of days mentally added to it.  Whether people agree with the article or not, I think it’s the natural course of aging --- being carefree about your actions and wardrobe as a youth and then one day deciding that those things aren’t that important anymore. 

For example:  I used to wear t-shirt bras all the time. I loved them.  They were comfy and lightweight.  I had about 6 of them, until I decided that I hated it when my nipples poked out through the material -- and why they did that, I don't know. Maybe I was cold, maybe they did it just to annoy me -- whatever.   So over the course of the last year, I tried out a couple of the “padded” variety to decide what I liked and didn’t like.  And in buying padded bras, I realized they gave me a better silhouette --- lifted the “twins” spirit a little.  So I bought all new ones – (on sale at Younkers).  And the label on the brand I bought (Barely There) said “Headlights are for cars”. Smart marketing -- but I’m sure the “kids” don’t get it. 

Or like my previous blog post about the underwear thing.  I loved thongs.  I wore them all the time and thought that I would never wear regular underwear again – until one day I decided that I hated thongs and bought all new “panties”.  Wearing thongs doesn’t even seem that appealing to me anymore.  And it’s not because of the butt floss thing.  Remember how our mother’s always told us to wear clean underwear in case you’re in a car accident?   I had to go to the doctor one day about my back and had to "gown up" for him so he could do his exam -- of course I was wearing a thong.  Embarassing -- did I think about what I was wearing before I left home?  Of course not -- I got dressed like I did any other day.  Did I have panties available in my undie drawer that I could have worn instead?  Yes. So, imagine being in a car accident with a less than perfect body –wearing a thong and the paramedics cutting your clothes off – or the emergency room nurses or just having a doctor do his physical exam when you are slightly more exposed than normal panties would leave you to be.  And don’t think they aren’t going to say anything because they are emergency personnel and are professional –- because when they get back to the nurses’ station or to the fire house, they are going to joke about it.  I know how they roll, I’m an EMT. 

So, over the weekend, I went to a bachelorette party for my friend Cathy.   Cathy is a couple of years older than me and has been married before, so I was surprised at first that she was even going to have such a party – but her daughters are in their mid 20’s, so party on!.    We did jello shots – and they were fun.  We went dancing at a 20 something bar to music that was popular 20 years ago.  (And people watched as little 20 year girls came in dressed like we did in the 80’s).   We bar hopped around Peosta, Epworth, Dyersville and Farley like a bunch of kids.  It was fun.   We split up about 11 pm. 

After the split, I went to a neighborhood bar and they went to the race track.   They should have come to the bar with me because there was a birthday party going on and the place was packed with a lot of eye candy.   Hot eye candy dressed in cowboy boots and cowboy hats.  I couldn’t not check them out.  I stayed, just for the visual entertainment.   

After a while, the party goers got out of control and all hell broke loose in the street.  Then Five Oh came in and shut the bar down.  And even though I was ticked off because I had just ordered a new drink and had barely taken a sip out of – it was then that I realized, at 45 years old, I really have no business being in a bar that gets closed by the police.   Not that it wasn’t exciting mind you, I can’t even tell you the last time I was in a bar where that happened.  When the bar cleared out to watch the fight – I and the other regulars all stayed on our stools and went about our conversation like fights happen there every day – which they don’t – except we just acted like it was no big deal.  I even didn’t really move at first when the Sheriff Department came busting in the door to kick us all out.  And I didn’t go home when I was told too … mainly because a certain law enforcement officer was blocking my car in and then tried to act like he didn’t do it on purpose – when I know damn well he did.  I walked up the street to the other bar – and was standing outside drinking a soda when the cops came flying up the street to shut that place down too.

And in the end, like I said, I was wondering what the hell I was doing there that late anyway.  I should have been home in bed…. Sending out another 100 resumes or something equally as lame – because I’m 45 … not 23.

Which brings me to another thing about being over 40 – age discrimination.   I’ve noticed on a couple of job applications I’ve had to fill out – for various positions – that there’s a check box coyly asking my age.  Over 40, under 40 …. And I’m wondering what that is all about. It’s a required question – not one I can opt out of, trust me, I’ve tried.   I was also told recently by a person in my Young Professionals groups that there is an unenforced age limit of 40. Huh, I find that interesting because nowhere on their website does it list an age limit and they allowed me in when I was over the age of 40 …. And then last year, when I didn’t think I wanted to belong anymore, they billed the hell out me every month until I finally paid my membership dues again. So if they kick me out now, I’m going to be pissed and ask for my money back.  (Of course, the person that told me that thought I was at best 35 …. Never had a clue that I was over 40).   

I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter what age a person really is – I’m going to do what I want, go to bars when I want – although I’ll probably be home by 11 and not 1 am.  Have Jello Shots and heck, I might even get a tattoo…of something other than someone’s name – somewhere visible.   I’m not going to be old until I’m good and old  -- like when I’m 102.