It started innocently enough.
I was home enjoying a lazy Friday morning.
Sipping a pot O’ Joe, skimming the newspaper, reeeee-laxin!
Regis and Kelly were on the tube in the background, yet I paid them little attention.
I was too busy embracing my slugdom.
At some point I noticed a wedding taking place on the show.
One of those “over the top valentines day TV fairytale” kind of weddings.
Just as I began to turn away to concentrate further on my state of nothingness, I noticed something.
Actually, it was “someone”.
The Father of the bride!
Not the groom.
Not the cute little groomsmen.
The Father of the friggin bride!
When did this happen?
When did the parents of young lovebirds entering into wedded bliss, turn MY age?
I actually thought the Father of the bride was cute!
This is wrong on so many levels.
I was confiding this apparent paradigm shift to Mikey on the way home from dinner with friends last night .
He told me he understood exactly how I was feeling.
Although far from eloquent, he did effectively sum up my feelings with these words:
“Chrissy, inside every forty-five year old is a twenty year old screaming, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!?”
Yep, Mikey's right.
That’s exactly how I’m feeling these days.
What the “heck” happened?
1 comment:
My mother, when she was 67, told me that she was still 18 in her head. What do they say?... aging in mandatory but maturity is optional.
Post a Comment