On a recent clothes shopping trip with my daughter, I suggested a type of shirt that would go with her newly purchased pants. “Something simple, like a nice little shell,” I said. “A what?” she replied. “You know, a shell, a sleeveless shirt,” I said, running a finger across my shoulder to show where the edge of the shirt stops. “Oh, you mean a tank top,” my daughter answered, laughing. A similar incident occurred a few weeks ago when I said I would pick up some creme rinse at the drug store. “Some what?” she said. “Creme rinse, you know, the stuff you put on after you shampoo,” I said. “Oh, you mean conditioner,” she said. More laughing.
I’m slowly getting used to the outward signs of aging—the slightly expanding waistline, the crow’s feet and sags, the graying hair. And though it’s distressing, I’m not surprised by ‘mind-pause’ things like forgetting where I put my car keys, going off on a tangent when telling a story and the sporadic inability to retrieve names for common objects.
But this business of feeling old simply by what I call things is a whole new realm of aging. It’s not like I always call conditioner creme rinse—I haven’t bought Tame since I was a kid—but sometimes the words just slip out. Though I refer to pants that hit mid-calf as capris, I have to admit I secretly think of them as peddle-pushers. In addition to finding that names for things have changed, meanings for names of things have changed. To me, thongs will always be casual sandals (i.e. flip-flops), not some ridiculously skimpy, horribly uncomfortable-looking undergarment.
Clothing is another sure-fire way to show age. I know this because up until a year ago, I owned a pair of those high-waisted, straight-legged, front-pleated, baggy old age-broadcasters known as “mom jeans,” until my daughter kindly pulled me aside for some much-needed fashion advice. Thankfully, she also talked me into replacing my comfortable but unsightly square-toed, thick-soled shoes with something a bit more modern.
These days, age is also revealed in the products people use. Using a regular (non-digital) camera, paper appointment book or Sony Walkman will instantly add 20 years to someone’s age. Even buying CDs is becoming dated. A recent New York Times article, “The Graying of the Record Store” was all about this kind of thing, how independent record shops, especially in big cities, are closing because kids are downloading music and no longer buying CDs. Even something as innocuous as wearing a watch is becoming old-fashioned. With digital clocks built into cell phones, many young people—phones affixed to ears—no longer feel a need to wear one.
On top of what I wear and use, every now and then, I’ll say something that I know instantly dates me. Though I’ve never been known to utter anything as Draconian as “you silly goose” or “if I had my druthers,” I have been known to talk about having a “conniption fit” and needing to “keep my eyes peeled.” And I know I’m guilty of telling my kids more than once that “money doesn’t grow on trees” and “it’s better to be safe than sorry.” These old sayings just pop out of my mouth—unrestrained, automatic. I suppose it’s just another all-too-obvious sign that I wasn’t born yesterday.
(This column was originally published on townonline.com August, 2006)
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