Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Fear in Time

Now that we are back up and running in this office, and I had a week to get back into a habit of fully reading emails/ newspapers/ novels/ textbooks rather than skimming all it, well, seems I have bugger all time to even sit enjoying a cup of coffee, let alone practice my hobbies… So let me try to keep this short… (Ha)

With a certain amount of horror I have recently made a recurrent realisation (recite that repeatedly when boozed!). That, well, young kids are getting older.

I 1st realised this when my baby brother was initiated into the siblings’ tequila rituals at the holiday town local pub. Then again when I didn’t need to sweet talk bouncers and…um…lean forward to a convenient 45% angle and smile at them to get him into clubs. Cause he was now of legal age.

Even as I have watched friends flash off diamond rings or bulging bellies, I have not felt the tick of age. And my siblings’ jokes of me reaching “Left On The Shelf” Labelling still remain that – just jokes that I laugh at.

The past week has somehow made me re-realise Time though. I refuse to put it down to my age. It’s as I say, that the youth are getting older. Now when I am out and about socialising, I can easily be amongst the oldest. People look up to me and respect my opinion. What the hell?!?!

When did I become a wise elder to pull aside for a beer and some advice?!?!?
Or when I get asked by some child muso if I know some ancient band, and I hyperventilate over realising that I knew the time even before that band existed.

When I can admit to having been friends with someone for over two decades. Or that I used to dance on that exact bar top 8 years ago. 8 years ago!!! That’s a long time of hooliganism now. I am no longer just experimenting. Now I am set in my ways.

For most of my socialising life I have been the youngest in the group. Often by easily 5 to 10 years. I have been teased about having my sights set on Sugar Daddies. About my man requiring a Zimmer frame. About my family doctor and my boyfriend having attended the same graduation ceremony back in the Eighties.

Recent socialising events made me stop, take several deep breathes in and out, sit down for awhile, and think…When did I become the dodgy older woman at a picnic, who is being eyed out by a young 'un as his potential Sugar Mamma?!?!

19 comments:

Anonymous said...

No worries... 25 going on 16 rules. I don't care what They say.

chewthecud said...

Praise to the young at heart champers! Here's to you still partying at 90! :)

Revolving Credit said...

When you find yourself walking down the road in a short skirt and poeple stare at you cuz your kees are knocking against your breasts, start worrying.
Until then, they may be slightly younger, but you have more experience partying through the nite and you can afford your own drinks.

Champagne Heathen said...

Koeks - I'd prefer a little older than 16. I'd hate to still be living the age of drinking Reds & Hunters Gold and trying to sneak into clubs at the Waterfront!

Chews - cheers to that!!

Rev - I dread that day. I think I am already becoming paranoid about that happening. The guy on the treadmill next to me must chuckle alot as I frantically do those "I must, I must" exercises!

I also have a job to go to the next day and a boss to account to, while they have a 11am lecture for the day. But yes, experience and age definitely do lead to good things...

Revolving Credit said...

Pointless worrying about stuff thats 40--50 years away.
If they then sag, have them cosmetically lifted, tucked under your arms pits or tied around your waste. The marvels of modern medicine.

Champagne Heathen said...

I don't think I quite have to worry about multi-tasking them as a belt. And I have found one advantage to not having power steering....excellent exercise!

Revolving Credit said...

You use your breasts to steer???

Damn woman, how big are those things?

Champagne Heathen said...

Yeah, yeah, I knew you'd think like that. I'm too short to use them to steer. Actually, no...hold on...maybe...hmm...now I am curious.

Maybe this is the answer to being able to speak on the phone, eat and ice cream, and change gears all at the same time!

Revolving Credit said...

Just wedge your icecream and phone between your breasts.

Maybe they should sell some car-kit bra. Built in speakers, charger..

kyknoord said...

I'll save you a spot in the sun at the retirement village.

chewthecud said...

its a natural ice-cream scoop as well ;P

i know how to drive with my knees but i think champers is on the verge of inventing a new skill. Of course the only reason a woman would invent this would be so she can talk on a cellphone - figures.

Revolving Credit said...

I can't hear you, please speak into the nipple!

Champagne Heathen said...

Rev - I am dreading even thinking how big you are now imagining my breasts and cleavage to be!!

Thanks Kyk! You're a honey. Best I buy a book on "How To Play Bridge" on the way home!

Chews - wouldn't it have to be an inverted breast to be an ice cream scoop???

And Rev - what way do you think my nipples are facing if I can speak into them while driving??

You guys need some lessons in the Design of The Breast apparently!!

Revolving Credit said...

I was thinking thta some guy may use both you and your bra as a car kit.

Enjoy you lolly licking!

chewthecud said...

um - champers, do us all a favor and put a hand on either side of your breasts. ok, now squeeze em together. look like you can put ice-cream in there? ok now that you're done giving our imaginations an exercise you can put em away. but drizzle a little chocolate sauce on em first ;)

PS - about those lessons - how much do you charge? Do you do house-calls? when can you start?

Jam said...

Champs, I am generally the oldest when I'm out. All my "older" friends are married, with babies and going out simply doesn't feature to them. Besides which, I refuse to ever become an adult who thinks that the world revolves around tame dinner parties where the only topic of conversation is their children. Watch me eat my words later - but young at heart is not a bad thing to be at all.

Champagne Heathen said...

Rev - Using me to recharge his battery. Well, that was your idea on Chew's blog!

[And if anyone wants to understand & not be horrified by the lolly comment go read up there...actually, recalling that banter, maybe don't!]

Chews - ....fck....late for meeting I am conducting...be back later to try to dodgy your fantastical comment there...

Anonymous said...

I went through a quarter life crisis, but soon got over it. The only thing that bothers me now is the grey hair that's increasing exponentially. 18 year old girls don't consider "scoring" grey guys at clubs, unless they arrive in a Porsche.

Hey, rather grey than bald... (touch wood)

Champagne Heathen said...

Oh ja, I forgot to finish this...

Jam, that's why I keep you around! Cause you are still young at heart! (And cause you're older than me so I don't have to worry about then being the oldest in the room ;) )

O-D - NEVER underestimate the power of silver-touched hair. Just look at Richard Gere.... actually, whatever happened to that old guy?? Ok, might now be a bad example.