Musings of an Old(er) Person

You know you’re getting old when you start to have thoughts like these:

1) I have allowed myself two Starbucks visits a week in the morning before work. Just two. I’m usually in and out of there in about five minutes since all I order these days is a regular coffee (sometimes with some kind of flavored syrup if I feel especially wild that morning). However, this morning it took me about 15 minutes to get through a line of three- two of the three being pre-teen girls no older than eleven who are just as annoying at 7:25 am as they are at 7:25 pm. Now I’m usually a pretty tolerant person (okay, that’s a lie, but I am better than some) but this almost made me pull out the former teacher voice and tell them they are not following Starbucks conduct and hand them a pink slip. Side note: I was privaleged enough to have the experience of teaching sixth and seventh graders for almost two years, which not only tested my patience but also my abilities to yell in a commanding tone.It took these two girls nearly ten minutes to decide that all they wanted was a large coffee with vanilla syrup and, of course, a frappaccuino of some kind. Really? Ten minutes?  But besides the ten minutes, what is an eleven year old girl (with way too much eye makeup for her age) doing drinking a large coffee? I’m sure it’s not unheard of these days, but I didn’t realize coffee addiction started so young. I liked coffee as a kid, but I was only given a very small cup with LOTS of milk. I don’t think I actually had a real cup of coffee until senior year of high school. I guess kids these days have just gotten too sophisticated for sugar-laden smoothies and deliciously rich chocolate milk!

2) I recently went shopping a few weeks ago in search for some new clothes for work and play. I’m nearly thirty years old and I sadly admit I still look around the “juniors” section and still shop at places like American Eagle and Forever 21. My excuse is that I look young and I’m small and “grown up” clothes just do not look right on me most of the time. If I was 5’8 and didn’t get carded for a beer, than I’m convinced I’d feel differently. This shopping trip I had such a hard time finding clothes. When did shorts all become so short? All the shorts I found were meant to be worn as underwear I think, not as actual shorts. And where were the REAL clothes? I don’t want brightly colored tank tops with cartoon labels plastered everywhere on them in gold. I needed a sundress, not a shirt…or wait, was this a long shirt or was it a very short sundress? After 20 minutes of distress, my butt walked itself over to the “grown up” clothes. Ah! Bermuda shorts! Thirty here I come!


Posted in 30

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