I went to a birthday celebration this weekend for a friend who turned 40. She is smart, funny and a pediatriac emergency room doctor. For a hypochondriac like myself that is a gift from God.
The shindig started at a restaurant with cocktails and h’orderves. It was a delightful grown up party. Gone are the days of celebrating your day of birth by twerking in the club. Dinner was at a local country club. Yes, they actually let me in. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated. In these situations I always feel like Molly Ringwald in “Pretty in Pink.” I’m waiting for Blaine to tell everyone I’m from the other side of the tracks. I grew up going to weddings at firehalls where blue jeans was considered formal wear. Levi isn’t allowed in a country club. It is my own insecurity and no reflection whatsoever on the group of people I dined with. They were actually lovely and very welcoming. The night was full of great conversation and laughter. The meal was incredible. There wasn’t a half price munchie in sight. Everything the chef cooked was a work of art. I’m just still trying to figure out which fork to use.
More and more of my friends are reaching this milestone. People can tell you 40 is the new 20, 50 is the new 30, etc., but things change as you age. For example, you cannot dress like you did twenty years ago. You can pull off just about any look when you are a child, teenager and even in your 20s, but shopping for clothing gets more difficult as you age. I recently realized exactly how difficult it can be. I want a pair of shorts that are longer than my vagina. I don’t want a shirt made with sheer fabric. A friend of mine said she saw cute shirts at Forever 21. I begrudgingly logged online to browse their catalog. Do you remember when catalogs came in the mail? My best friend and I would clip outfits we wanted to wear when we grew up. We carefully glued each one to construction paper. It included accessories and a purse. If I dressed like the 10-year-old me envisioned I would be walking around in a lot of polyester dresses, shaker knit sweaters and brightly colored hoop earrings. Sure, there are some shirts at Forever 21 that I could wear without being a laughing stock, but the following looks prove you are not 21 forever:
Nothing screams ‘mom’ like a good ‘Hustle’ shirt, daisy dukes and tube socks.
I wouldn’t have to worry about hot flashes if I wore this on the class field trip to the museum.
Maybe I will wear this shirt the next time I am invited to the country club. If there is a next time.