Something tells me I'm getting old now

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I took some vacation time from June 1-6. June 1 was my birthday – my 30th birthday, no less. Going into my 30th birthday I wasn’t too stressed about it. I wasn’t feeling old, I wasn’t freaking out about losing that “2” as the first digit of my age. I woke up at around 1:30-2pm that Sunday, as I do just about every day (I work nights), and started the day as I would any other day off work.

Then, cuz it was my birthday, I had to put in an appearance at my sister’s house, who insisted on getting a cake for me. Plus my sister’s birthday is June 2nd, so I was gonna see her to wish her happy birthday too. After pizza and cake, I started feeling birthday-ish and thinking back on the years, I wanted to do something I hadn’t done in a long time: I wanted to play baseball again. Unfortunately, it’s tough to play baseball when it’s just one person, so I went to the local batting cages. This was my first mistake of the week.

I hadn’t taken hacks at a real baseball in more than two years or so, content to swing for the fences on my PS2. I got some decent hits on the ball, connecting for line drives (I was never a power hitter) when, no doubt because I had turned 30 that day, I started to wonder if I could still switch hit. This is something I hadn’t done since my sophomore or junior year in high school – about half my age ago (and there’s a phrase that makes one feel long in the tooth). It took about 4 swings from the left side before I felt the shoulder go. It wasn’t a pop, and not quite a tear, but something sure as hell was kicking and screaming in there. Beautiful. I’m 30 years old for all of 18 hours – 4 of which I was awake for – and I throw out my shoulder trying to do something I hadn’t done since I was 15 or 16.

So I decide I’d had enough of swinging a bat in a cage, especially since I have a nice, safe game for the Playstation at home. On the way home, I stop at a Walgreens to pick up some bleach for my hair, since my blonde patch needed some touching up. This is a little superstition thing I do every baseball season – I bleach a blonde patch in the front of my hair just over my left eye so the Cardinals will go to the playoffs (what the hell, it worked the past 3 years;) ).

So as I’m in the bathroom taking care of my roots, I can’t help but notice I seem to have a lot more gray hairs at my tamples than I noticed last time. I’m not really that gray, am I? I’d always had some gray hairs, ever since high school, but DAMN! The little silver bastards were reflecting enough light to call home the mother ship. They were all over the sides of my head. Their friends had come out to play. And what the hell was that?! Was that gray hairs in my goatee? Maybe I should shave, that’d take care of that problem at least.

So Monday comes around, June 2nd, my sister’s birthday. She didn’t really know what she wanted for a birthday present, so I told her we’d just go out shopping and I’d buy her something. I go over to her house and we’re loading her kids into the minivan. I’m favoring my shoulder due to my stupidity of the day before and while lifting my neice into the child seat, I feel my back lock up on me. My back stopped moving just as the proverbial monkey wrench stops the gears from turning. Being the good uncle, I bit my tongue to keep from cussing in front of the children.

So, within 48 hours of turning 30, I hurt my shoulder trying to do something I hadn’t done since I was a teen, noticed gray hairs on my face, and threw my back out lifting a not-quite 3 year old child. Happy frickin’ birthday.
:rolleyes:

2

Fossil.

3

Pfft, you had gray hair two years ago. :stuck_out_tongue:
Take it easy, gramps. :smiley:

4

Go look in the mirror again, I think you forgot to notice those wrinkles around your eyes. I won’t mention the incipient jowliness. Yer welcome!

Smootches from BadBaby who will remain young forever and so does not freak over birthdays, yup.

5

Aw, but grey hair looks good on guys. Seriously.

Happy late birthday, Crunchy!

hugs

Want a back rub?

6

If you’re gonna bitch like this at 30, you’re not gonna have anything left to whine about at 50/60, etc.

Pace yourself, man. Life is long.

7

Have the neighbourhood kids started calling you “mister” yet?

That one really took me aback when it happened. I’m not terribly concerned about my age–33, or my grey hair (actually, I like it that my hair is greying, I think it looks neat).

But when the neighbours’ kid called me “mister”, that hurt!

8

Old age is nature’s way of rewarding you for not dying young :slight_smile:

9

I’m not really freaking out about being 30 (ok, I wasn’t expecting the grey hair in the beard, although I’ve had grey hairs on my head for years), I just found it odd that no sooner do I turn 30 than I start injuring myself over minor incidents. I pull a muscle in my shoulder swinging a bat from the left side, my back goes out while picking up a little kid, etc. By the 3rd, I was afraid to take a shower lest I slip and break my hip.

BadBaby - I’ve noticed the wrinkles around my eyes months ago. The wrinkles don’t bother me much. I’m kinda baby-faced so I don’t mind looking a little older, it’s the feeling older that’s killing me.

Guinistasia - It’s better now, nothing a heating pad and a some rest didn’t fix, but I’m always up for a back rub if you’re just looking for an excuse. :wink:

samclem - When I’m 50/60 I’ll bitch about how these damn kids nowadays don’t know jack and what the hell is that crap music they listen to?!

The MacDairmuid - No kids calling me mister yet, but then I keep odd hours and am rarely out in the daytime. To the neighborhood kids I’m probably the creepy old guy that no one sees who lives in the house haunted by the ghosts of the people I’ve murdered and I’m probably a vampire or something cuz I never come out during the day.

Rhubarb - That’s exactly why I should take up smoking again. I’ll just die early, that’ll show that Mother Nature bitch who’s in charge around here!

10

I’ve had bags under my eyes since I was a baby. I discovered this looking at old pictures. I developed a nice set of crow’s feet when I was in elementary school. This past year, my grey hairs are growing too fast to simply pluck out. Don’t tell anyone, but I have to color my hair my natural color. My back hurts when I do anything. Oh yeah, and I’m just 23. Your situation is not too bad. But I do feel for you, Crunchy

11

The wrinkles don’t bother you much?! Well then, my attempt to tease and torment you has failed utterly. Eh, you know you just had a bit of bad luck. Still, if feeling old is getting you down, then go rub up against something young (and why not nubile, since you might as well enjoy yourself), maybe you’ll get some on you.

12

Happy belated birthday, Crunchy Frog. 30 huh? That’s all? Who changes your diapers? :wink: I turn 42 tomorrow so I know. :frowning:

Seriously, if you think that’s bad, it only gets worse. And thanks for your baseball story, I think I’ll take it to heart. I never played sports outside of forced gym in school and I hated it then, but one thing I used to love to do in my youth (late childhood through mid-adolescence) was go horseback riding. I haven’t done it in…Oh my. 22 years! :open_mouth: (The last time I rode a horse I was 20. I remember, because I was in Colorado at the time.)

But being the dirty old woman that I am–42 year old woman dating 38 year old man, heh heh heh–who lives in rural area and enjoys being outdoors, I’ve been thinking we should try this together, but now I’m starting to wonder. He’s open to the idea (he’s never done it) and says he can probably find a horse farm/place that has trail rides not too far from him, but now with your baseball (and lifting your sister’s kid) stories I’m not so sure it’d be a great idea. Maybe I’ll settle for continuing to ride HIM like a horse and going for long walks with him when the weather is nice.

Now MacDairmuid (I hope I spelled that right) writes,

<Have the neighbourhood kids started calling you “mister” yet? That one really took me aback when it happened… But when the neighbours’ kid called me “mister”, that hurt!>

Ouch, yes, but in my case it was Ma’am, not Mister. It used to be that strangers would call me Miss, as in “Miss, you dropped a quarter,” but then it changed to Ma’am. For the record, I have thus far seen only one grey hair on my head (which is now safely drenched in L’Oreal Casting Cafe Zen ;))…luckly I got my father’s hair color scheme and he didn’t start seriously greying until he hit his late 40s.

13

<samclem - When I’m 50/60 I’ll bitch about how these damn kids nowadays don’t know jack and what the hell is that crap music they listen to?!>

Why wait till you’re 50/60 when it’s true right now?

14

Wait until you start thinking of thirty year old people (children?) as overgrown little brats.
Someday you’ll be parked at a stoplight, and a car will pull up alongside you, with the loud “boom boom thump thump” of the stereo blaring, and the thought will come, unbidden, into your head, “F***ing little brat!”
I’m not doing this so much anymore, but I did go through a time period where I really hated youth. That made me feel old.
On the other hand, what in God’s green Earth are young people thinking these days? Some times, and with some experiences, I truly cannot figure it out. How can anyone enjoy that loud stereo crap, for example?
Am I getting old?
Yes, I think so, but I comfort myself that I’m not that young. I think perhaps I never was.

15

Ah, you’ve still got a good ten years before dribble dick and reading glasses. Not long after that you’ll notice that the Young Turks are lettin’ you on the elevator first, and those foxy 50-year olds’ll start giving you the time of day. You’ll have your AARP membership soon enough. Patience, Grasshopper.

And happy birthday.

16

Forbin writes,

<Wait until you start thinking of thirty year old people (children?) as overgrown little brats.>

LOL!

Hmmm, well, I’m already thinking this of people in their 20s (from my perspective of early 40s), because nearly all the ones I encounter certainly act that way. On the other hand, I know someone who has a 14 year old daughter who is not only intelligent, but civilized as well. So TRY not to stereotype that “young adults are really not adults,” but I think the teenage girl in question is an exception, not the rule. Let’s see if she holds on to this by the time she hits her 20s though. Hee hee.

<Someday you’ll be parked at a stoplight, and a car will pull up alongside you, with the loud “boom boom thump thump” of the stereo blaring, and the thought will come, unbidden, into your head, “F***ing little brat!”>

This happens all the time and I hate it! The “boom boom thump thump” of the rap they call “music.” BLECCCH!!!

<I’m not doing this so much anymore, but I did go through a time period where I really hated youth. That made me feel old.>

I don’t hate youth, I just hate stupidity and inconsideration, and personally I think anyone old enough to be considered legally an adult is more than old enough to possess at least a modicum of common sense and consideration. Why can’t they listen to music in their cars without blasting it so that everyone within a ten mile radius has to hear it?

On the other hand, what in God’s green Earth are young people thinking
these days? Some times, and with some experiences, I truly cannot figure it out. How can anyone enjoy that loud stereo crap, for example?

Am I getting old?>

No. :slight_smile:

17

The scariest moment will be when you realize that many, maybe most of the authority figures around are now younger than you.

When you’re young, you think of cops, clergymen, doctors and pilots, for instance, as being much older than yourself. It’s a bit shaking when you walk down the streets of New York, see a cop, and find yourself thinking, “My God, he’s just a KID!”

18

Yes, I remember the day when I realized that most waitresses were younger than I was. Now I’m starting to notice that a lot of grocery clerks, bank tellers, and hairdressers are older than me. Soon, I’ll be shocked to see police officers, doctors, and lawyers that make me look ancient.

I’ll be thirty in a few months myself.:frowning:

19

I recommend steering clear of batting cages and 3 year olds. It may also be time for one of those non-slip pads for the shower. And maybe a rail by the toilet.

This weekend I’m going shopping for sandals that I can wear with my white socks and a rocking chair so I can sit on the porch and tell the neighbor kids to keep the hell of my lawn.

20

Crunchie you should have titled this thread “damn young whippersnappers grumble grumble grumble…”
if its any consolation to you I found my first grey facial hair at age 52 and now at age 62 my sideburns are have gone grey. luckily for me I inherited my hair from my mom’s dad, because my own dad was bald at 28.

your true age however, is not your calender age by how old you think you are. in my head I feel in my late 30s. … hard for me to believe that I have a son who is that age.

Another sign that you are getting up there is when you sing songs that are waaaaaay out of date. Anyone remember “witchdoctor” Oe ee o ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang. However usually you can tell someone’s real age by the songs they sing in the shower. Me, I sing “volare”

Belated Happy Birthday old man

Retief