Thursday, February 24, 2005

An AA's Adventure

I'm fully committed to trying to make sense of this Adolescent Again phenomenon. Being Thirty-something and caught in between the carefree twenties and the Free Again Forties. Where are we? Where do we belong and where do we fit in?

I've been thinking a lot about what I was doing when I was thirteen ( I'm thirty-three so it's my adolescent equivalent) and what was going on in my life. I was up every day at 5:30 to go with my mom into the city where she worked, and I went to school. Getting up so early meant I had no time for hair, make-up, fashion or even a shower so I always felt like a complete dork; ugly to the core. I went to a private, all-girls school that was my mother's alma mater. There were only about 100-120 students, and 90% of them were filthy rich. I was not rich, nor exactly filthy, but certainly scruffy when compared to the Greek Ambassador's and the Yuppie Lawyer's daughters. I wanted to be accepted, but I knew I wasn't able to buy my clothes where they did, or have cool things like they had.

I could, however, afford to buy hair dye with my babysitting money. I could do what their parent's wouldn't let them; I could be a punk.
Ok, not really, my mother was slightly conservative, but also very tired and easy to bully if I put my mind to it. I was allowed to dye my natural medium brown hair, to copper penny red. I also got a haircut and a perm. When I was finished with my make over, I had a bright shiny red curly mullet; and I looked hot! I was not, however, allowed to bleach the strip of hair behind my left ear, as was current fashion, so I hair wrapped it instead in neon colors and put some wee trinkets hanging off it: a silver wishbone, a shell, a couple of bells that jingled when I walked.

My confidence skyrocketed, now when I walked around I felt like MTV were filming my every move. Nature helped out a whole bunch with giving me a set of "D" cups and an hourglass figure when most of the other girls were still...girls. It was the dawning of a time of being popular and admired, and did I appreciate any of this? Hell no. I was still terrified, deep down, that somehow my inner geek would mess things up for me.


So where am I today and what parallels have I drawn? Well, my "D" cups are now an "F" but that's down to breastfeeding, and I know when that stops, my nips will be a whole lot lower than they were when I was thirteen. I really could care less if anyone likes me or not, I know I'm decent, weird and funny and if they can't "get me", figure me out and accept me, it's their problem not mine. I have had to accept that my body isn't going to recommend me as "cool" to other people any more, in that regard I've become desperately average. I still see the cliques with the moms who gather to collect the kids after school, and I can stand back and observe, wave hello and be comfortable in not "belonging" but also in not being invisible.

I have to teach my little girl how to play nice, but don't play with kids who make you cry, and if they hit you-hit them back, then go tell the teacher. I still want her to see her Mommy having friends, and knowing that a few great friends are more important than a clique of twats you tolerate for sake of your image.

What else can I do? I can still change my hair. Now that I'm not working in the bank, where hair style and color is regulated by dress code, I can be adventurous. In fact, I've gone out today, chopped the lot down short, bleached it blonde, bought funky sticky goo stuff to make it all spikey and freaked out my Husband.
He's going to bed with an MTV star tonight!

15 comments:

Kim said...

Go Girl! I wish I had your guts... then and now.

Innocent Bystander said...

You sound like you've gone all punk. Nice.

I was good-looking back then, I've been going down hill. Quite popular too, sport, took drugs, in band, everything was there... shit, my life has gone downhill fast! I love your attitude!

Innocent Bystander said...

The Beast does indeed have issues... Take care and hope the husband isn't freaked too much!

Blog ho said...

Ah, sweet youth, I am glad it's gone...at least some of it.

Lyvvie said...

I feel like I've just turned around to bite Youth on the ass as it runs away...the fucker!

Innocent Bystander said...

he he, biting youth on the ass. Like that. Lyvvie! You can't say Americanisms like ass in Fife - you can get lynched for that up there. They still haven't forgiven your homeland for Braveheart! :-)

Lyvvie said...

I take no responsibility for an Australian's interpretation of Scottish history.

You've obviously not been to Fife/Edinburgh in a while. The population is so intergrated with Canadians, Aussies, Kiwis and assorted European and EurAsian residents that You will never be served in a pub or resaurant by a Scottish person. When Edinburgh Festival comes around, I've seen Chinese residents snarl under thier breath "Damned tourists!"

This is the melting pot...and we have very few racially motivated crimes. My area is heavily populated with English folk who are trying to find properties to raise families in without being enslaved to the Bank of England for the rest of thier lives. Mortgages are harder to come by for a first time buyer. The average price of two bedroom a home in Edinburgh is £161,637 *source: www.espc.co.uk* Our two bedroom semi detached in Fife (20 minutes drive/trainride away from Edinburgh) cost £101,239, so you can see the savings. Londoners benefit even more and are becoming millionaires by selling up down south and move up here for a simpler life. English students are running up to Scotland for less expensive University educations, plus carry the lauds of Edinburgh University.

This has turned into a long response...I should've saved it for a proper post..but how boring to post about finance.

I've obviously, still not adjusted to not being in employment.

Kitten said...

I think I stopped "feeling my age" at 25....I still feel that way..i think it a good thing.

As for Free Again Forties: NOT. I am 42 with a 5 year old......have them young I say. I have friends whose kids are in college..they are all traveling, having sex in anyroom they want and stopped buying things like "gummie treats'...i however, still have a child not yet out of Kindergarten.

Kitten said...

aND YES...THE BREASTS DEFINITELY POINT IN AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT DIRECTION NOW....


SAD...

rob said...

Love your site! as a 61 year old grandfather I have my own problems! My wife still looks georgous to me! and I still wish I did to her, its a problem of reducing self esteem not of where your nips point or in my case "belly". When the kids are old enough and you can get back to work (if you need or indeed want to) with new clothes and and a purpose outside the family. A place where you will get " chatted up" even if its only by the office romeo with his Bobby Charlton haicut)your self esteem will be lifted. I can see it now! having made the transition back to "Siren" from Mum, you walk into the new office and heads turn, Boy you will feel good! Have a great day.

Lyvvie said...

Kitten ~ I know what you mean..I still feel 19, it was the dawning of realisation for me, I had a car, I had no curfew, and full-on freedom. And, a five year old at 42 is becoming the norm these days! I have a very close friend who's 34, and has two teenagers...I envy her immensely as she can now run about and be "free", yet, she envies me for having the wee babies which are much less trouble than grumpy (her's are a bit goth) teens.

Rob ~ I had to look up what Bobby Charlton's hair was like...being hit on by a guy with a monster comb-over would do my self esteem no favours. I think comb-overs should be banned..go bald, be proud. Look how it worked for Patrick Stewart and Ross Kemp...if only we could convince Anne Widdecomb!

As soon as I can I'll post a Picture of the new look for a public opinion poll.

Lyvvie said...

Actually...I meant that Irish politican woman who actually has a comb-over...but I can't think of her name...Anne W. is just ugly.

rob said...

(Ann W!) Ugly or what! still, Im no one to talk.

Lyvvie said...

Mo Mowlem!!

That's who I meant!

Blog World said...

You don't take a photograph, you make it.
Ansel Adams- Posters.