March 24, 2014

Feeling Old

The text read: The Breakfast Club had their detention thirty years ago today.

I had a crush on Anthony Michael Hall. I have always loved the underdog.


No friggin' way. I remember my mom taking me to see that movie at the theater when I a freshman in high school. She took me on a Tuesday night when there probably wouldn't be any classmates who would see me with my mother at the movies. We watched unwatched.

I watch the movie every chance I get. I have a running argument with my high school BFF, Susie, about whether or not Bender and Clair did it in the closet. I say yes; Sus says no. (What do you say?)

Thirty years? Really?

I did a little math, checked a little Google and what do you know? Thirty. Years. Ago.

So I texted all my same-age-y friends and let them feel old too.

Then I went to physical therapy because I have a frozen shoulder. Eighty percent of all women between the ages of 45 and 55 have a frozen shoulder. I'm not 45, yet. Apparently, I'm advanced.

While at physical therapy a classmate came in for her physical therapy. She didn't have a frozen shoulder; I told her to just wait. Her time would come. There was also a guy there would had a shoulder injury. He was probably in his late fifties ... or ... he was thirty-seven and graduated high school four years after me. He looked like a grandpa. (No offense to the guy if he happens to be reading my blog.)

At some point today, someone asked about my mom, and inevitably, they'd ask, "How old is she?" Then the conversation would turn to my dad and his history of ill-health, which started with his first heart attack when I was just seven years old. That means that he was 43 when he had his first heart attack. That means that I am the same age now as my dad was when he had his first major health event.

Dang. I'm feeling old. And? I can't even color my own hair because ... frozen shoulder.

I wonder how Andrew, Brian, Clair, Allison and Bender are fairing.

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