A new book hot off the press discusses the woes of a forty-year-old mother who has just discovered that she is “formerly hot.” I would love to sympathize with the author however the only time I’ve ever considered myself “hot” was when a hot flash terrorized my body for a few brief minutes.
When I was young I wanted to be cool, but my “pointy blue glasses” and orthopedic saddle shoes designed to correct my young bunions proclaimed that I was a total dork. So I’m not even formerly “cool.” As for “currently cool,” even though my bunions are no longer housed in two tone leather but instead are allowed to roam free in straw mules, they are now about as large as a third world country so it appears that I am still the Duchess of Dork.
This leads me to a difficult question. If I wasn’t cool enough to be formerly cool or hot enough to be formerly hot, what am I? Lukewarm?
My friends describe me as warm and fuzzy. That’s not such a bad description. I guess that means my personality is kind of like a Golden Retriever. Like that overgrown and overfriendly dog, I do like almost everyone and I assume they like me. I’m kind to dogs, cats and most small children. I’m friends with ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends and ex-bosses.
Or maybe the retriever and I share one other characteristic. We’re both big softies. As I approach one of those monumental birthdays we experience every ten years, I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the wonderful friends who have entered my life, and the support I’ve received as I embark on a new career as an author.
So let me proclaim to one and all, I am perfectly fine with the fact that I will soon be…formerly fifty nine.