Two things I am starting to come to terms with about my age …
- My hair. I haven’t dyed it since before Christmas. And I plan to have my hair stylist give me partial highlights that will help me transition to having half (or mostly) gray hair. I literally haven’t seen my natural hair color in anything except my roots since I was 17, y’all - which is when I found my first gray hair. After more than 20 years, I’m tired of having to deal with hair dye once a month. Bring on the silver.
- The fact that the “oldies” radio station is now all 80s music, all the time. I mean, 80s music is to kids these days what 50s music was to me when that radio station (or its St. Louis equivalent) was playing it in the 80s. So I’m done being “OMG SO OLD” traumatized by that, I’m just gonna be happy that, when I forget my iPod in the car, I can sing loudly along to Journey and Whitney Houston instead.
Y’know, last year, my dad kept warning me about turning 40 - it was the most traumatizing age of all for him apparently. But me? I turned 40 and apparently went “can I start my crone phase now? I’m ready for it.”
The world is bleak and meaningless. Future generations will have to clean up our horrendous messes both politically and environmentally. Relations with other countries have become tenuous at best and collapsed at worst. We will more than likely never make it off this planet before our hubris and mistreatment of our home come back to ruin our civilization, making mankind a pockmark on the corpse of a once vibrant and bountiful-
Ok, let me stop you there. I meant right now. At this moment.
So did I.
I told you never to ask him generalized questions.