Friday, January 9, 2015

9 Lives?

Not long ago I actually said this to a small group of people while chatting: “Oh no I don’t dance. Anymore. I used to dance. Those days are over.” And then even before I lifted my chins and saw the sadness on their little earnest faces as they kindly suggested I really should try dancing again, I thought, WHAT AM I SAYING and WHO AM I and WHEN DID I TURN 86 and WHY AM I SUCH A DING-DONG?

Regardless of those sags and skin-tags, chins and bumps, and ups and upheavals, those wrinkles and worry, scars and stretch-marks, that one finger that won’t straighten anymore, that mortgage, that low tolerance for hip-hop and a hip that won’t much tolerate hop anymore, regardless of all that TV Kardashian-nincompoopness and the fact that it’s impossible to find a kid to mow your lawn or shovel the driveway anymore (I mean COME ON) or that falling-asleep sitting up issue, that awkward-irk-thing when someone is sitting in my chair, regardless of that annoying not-knowing why you came into that room brainfart routine, or whatever the really impressive sentence I was going to write here but I already forgot it, regardless of oh never mind here’s my point: can’t we all just DECIDE to reclaim this stray-cat of a thing called youth? Maybe youth has 9 lives? Think about it.

Why not have a “Reclamation of Youth Day.” Apparently, it’s a thing. I didn’t bother to research the actual date because well, irrelevant. Isn’t any day the perfect day to…

1. Find a pal and have a watergun-fight? Snowball fight? Thumb-war? Or maybe surprise your spouse with one of these?
2. Stop being angry they don’t make regular light-bulbs anymore.
3. Throw a pumpkin off a bridge?
4. Get yourself some selfie-sticks and an Instagram account.
5. Stop making the bed; it’s just going to get messed up again.
6. Fix your own computer/phone/TV/iPad/PVR/GPS/phone/coffee-maker/everything.
7. Mojitos. Jager-bombs?  
8. Ask your parents for money. Or better yet, your kids.
9. Daydream. Stay in bed all day? Lego? Harry Potter marathon?
10. Dance. 

To reclaim means to "regain possession of." Essentially, to "repossess." So get on your ten-or-much-less-now-speed-bike (of-course-ensure-it-has-that-special-protective-seat-and-goodness-sakes-wear-a-helmet-I’m-not-saying-lose-your-mind) and go reclaim your youth. (Re)take what is yours: life. 

3 comments:

Pearson Report said...

What a fantastic post - I'm a huge reclaimer of my youth… mostly I'm avoiding growing up.

I have hissy fits regularly and I've even asked mom for money (well to pay for stuff I buy for her - but I still ask).

And… I'm an Animal Crossing geek - when I go to "the Island" I'm surrounded by tweenie-boppers asking my cute-as-a-button character, Lizzy, how old I am. Like, 12! hahaha

I don't lie though - but have found saying my daughter gave me the game let's those wee tykes know I'm all grown up. The response is, "Oh, cool!"
Like, right!

I enjoyed this post - keep 'em coming!
Cheers, Jenny

Debra She Who Seeks said...

NO! I will never forgive them for stopping production of regular light bulbs.

Incognito said...

Ha! And hahaha. And when did I age prematurely and turn into methusalla? Once again so relatable.

I am sooo ancient, I gave up swearing at autocorrect.

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