You know your old when…

I think I have a fairly youthful perspective.  I’m a hep cat. I tweet.  I know some of the words to songs on B96, I can follow when my kids talk about the shows they watch on MTV (all the mtvs, didn’t there used to be just one?).  I think I’ve moved with the times while keeping my moral core. I never pictured myself as an old granny in a gingham apron baking delicious cookies in between needle pointing pillows that say “home sweet home”.   Recent occurrences has my mind trying to grasp the idea that perhaps I am older in attitude than I thought…..and it all has to do with women in skimpy clothing.

In the old days, when I was faced with a young woman showing lots of flesh, or who was boobalicious and being drooled over by a bevy of men, I would feel the green monster of envy rise up. I would loudly proclaim what a wreck she was, how she was turning her back on decades and decades of women who hard fought to give her rights so that she could be taken seriously in the world.  I’d nit pick every flaw I could find (OH! Did you see how she has a chip in the nail polish on her pinky finger?? FOR REAL?)  I’d  tear these women down sneering in disgust and challenging any man who was with me to disagree.  Lately, however, I have noticed a shift in my reactions. Let me tell you about a recent event.  I was at the Bulls game.  The cheerleaders, or Luvabulls if you will, flounced out on to the floor doing a pompon routine which included miming some sexual activity (at least I think it was sexual, could have been some form of aerobics) and shaking what the good Lord gave em. I leaned over to the person sitting next to me and shrieked “OHMYGOD!! How adorable are they!! They are so cute!!! They are in proper formation, and everyone is so coordinated!”  To which the woman I shrieked to looked at me in a “what are you nuts? And maybe you should change your glasses prescription” kind of way. I shocked myself but thought, maybe this is a sign that I’m getting older. Then I kept on this path. Last Saturday I met people at a bar known for having 72 beers. 72 BEERS!  The anticipation almost made me speed over the 30 mph, however, a law is a law.  I arrived, parked, walked in with my friends and noticed that the girls were wearing little plaid skirts.  One of the younger women in my group started throwing around “objectification” and I found these words escaping from my lips “oh but they are wearing t-shits that cover their bellies up! They are so adorable, and they are wearing knee socks and sensible shoes. They seem like such sweet girls.”  Not a thought about how dowdy they made me feel as I drank my beer in my 501s and hoodie, not a glance around at the men to make sure they were not leering, not a bitchy nit picky thing. Oh, the jury has weighed in and yes, your attitude is aging.  To some, this may be a point of panic, a depressing realization, a sad reminder of the passage of time, but I think I’ll embrace it and enjoy the fact that I can accept my sisters for who they are and what they feel comfortable in wearing, or not.