I am 34. There, my secret is out.
I no longer fit into the “hipster” category (and if I ever wear scarves with tassly things on the edges, please drag me out back and beat that urge out of me)…
…nor do I fit into the motherly “adult” category where my purse if full of band-aids, kleenex and juice boxes. Although, it is assumed here in Oklahoma that I am of age to have children, therefore, I have them. If at church on Mother’s Day, I am given a carnation by well-meaning but totally uninformed children–I am guessing due to my gray hair poking through my brown locks and the fact that I lack the tassly scarf.
I am in this weird interim of being too old to align myself with college students and too young to acknowledge I have a retirement account.
But, if I did that, I would miss out on all this fun. And, it’s a good opportunity to show my nephews this old lady still has it. And not to mess with me, cuz’ I’ll elbow you right in the face. (Sorry about that, Tanner).
I don’t ever want to be too old for anything. I may get slower, less graceful and injured more easily-but never too old.