What is it with the age reminders lately?
Kevin and I took the boys to a high school football game Friday. Now it's been almost twenty (ACK!) years since I was spinning a flag on the field at half time, but I'm looking forward to it all. The chill in the air, the smell of popcorn, the sound of football pads colliding. I remember sitting on the stands, cuddling closely with my favorite guy. Ah, the memories.
On the way to the game, Kevin and I are talking about our blogsite, and I refer to my "aging eyes" blog (Oct 20). This is where I'm lamenting about how my eyebrows have slid down my face, leaving an awning of saggy skin in their wake . So Kevin, trying to assure me he remembers the post I'm referring to says, "Oh, yeah, the blog about the bags under your eyes."
Bags? Did he just say bags? Now, mind you, I might have a little puffy, pre-bag thing going on, but he says this as if I'm toting a 5-piece set of Samsonite under there.
I let it slide (just like my eyebrows). We are going to have a fun, reminiscent evening.
So we grab our bundle of blankets and stadium gear and find seats high in the stands. The sounds and smells are just as I remember, and I'm smiling as I flip open my hard-backed stadium seat. I plunk down and find Kevin staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"We know we're middle-aged when we're planted in one of those babies," he says, looking pointedly at my chair.
Only problem is, we are not planted in one of those babies, I am. Nice of him to include himself. I brush it off, determined to have a fun, reminiscent evening.
My family watches the game while I watch people. Hey, that's what writers do. I notice that the teeny-boppers are as skinny as the mannequins at the mall that I point at and say, "Who's that skinny?"
By the end of the loud game, I have a headache, so I reach into my purse for relief. I'm opening my pillbox when I see Kevin staring at it with that irritating little smirk. I dare him with my eyes to say one word. Wisely, he turns to watch the end of the game.
Our evening? It's reminiscent all right. I'm distinctly recalling my fresh-faced, skinny, pain-free self of 20 years ago. But one thing is still exactly the same as it was back then: I'm still sitting in the stands, cuddled up with my favorite guy. And I wouldn't trade that for all the collagen in the world.