Monday, April 2, 2012

ain't no spring chicken no mo

i'm sure you've heard me lament from time to time about getting old. my knees hurt. my feet hurt. my head hurts. i have 3 gray hairs upon my head. i don't have the same desires i used to (i'm talking about staying out late oogling cute boys at the bar people and that's the only desire i mean).

this weekend, in the midst of my lamentations to my mother, i had an epiphany. What if I just start telling everyone I'm only 26, instead of 29? I mean, I do still take my laundry home on occasion (ok, ok, so on every occasion that involves me staying overnight) and I love hitting the ole pops up for some cash money. Because she is nothing if not supportive, my mother replied with "well Meredith, that sounds like a good idea. You probably wouldn't feel so bad about yourself if you were younger."

So just like I used to throw my mama under the bus when I didn't want to do something my friends wanted me to do - you know, the old "my mama said I can't" excuse - I am gonna say that next time you ask how old I am, and I tell you I'm 26, it's because my mother said it was ok.

I already know being young is going to feel so good. Why even now, I have a spring in my step and a gleam in my eye (not to be confused with santy clause. because he's old. and i am not).

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