At 33, I've already begun to think of 20 somethings as the "brave NEW generation" of young 'uns who go out an take what they want! Methinks this is not good for my much coddled brain cells. I mean, I don't recognise most of anything thats being spoken about, whispered and giggled between my younger friends these days. Its a strange feeling folks. I'm no longer at the core of things. The world in other words, has ceased to revolve around me! Fancy that!
I've always been slightly strange and quixotic (my family assures me). But this new phenomenon of having to look up the hipsters english language dictionary for all things happening, cannot be all me surely? - right? RIGHT?
So I'm going to deal with this new thingamybob change the way I do anything else. With class and elan* - (and for those of you who think being 30 is a sort of premature death, foot note follows). In other words, this week shall see me tint my greying tresses, french polish those bitten to the quick nails, update my make-up kit ( ... as if I have one), get meself a few of those bubble skirts and shifts that make you look stick thin on top and slightly pregnant in the centre (all in the name of fashion) and seriously change the way I talk. I mean seriously. Mouthing words like the above referenced elan, ubiquitous, supercilious and merde, merde, merde are just not going to get me anywhere. I realise that now. Nor are the abilities to think, reason, be a Montessori mom and cook more than one decent meal a day. These here put me firmly in the "do you actually have a life" category. So they definitely have to go.
I need these in a hurry y'all - a stylist, a babysitter, Paris Hilton's finishing school address and above all - a translator. Comprende? Well then, get on it - STAT.
*elan is fancy for distinctive style and flair. Write that 20 times on the black board now.