Arthur is killing me!

I'm getting old.

Look, I know I'm only 23 and that's really not OLD. But I can feel the old creeping in. I don't know if it's a result of becoming so complacent with life and not having the gumption to change it or what, but it's evident that I'm not the ~fancy young stallion~ that I used to be.

I notice the old all the time. My forehead? Wrinkly. Like, even when I'm not smiling or being really excited with my eyebrows... there are constant wrinkles. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? I always said when I was younger that I thought wrinkles were a sign of maturity and dignity. Ha, fuck that. I don't want my wrinkles anymore. All they're a sign of is that I spent way too much time in a tanning bed preparing for senior prom when I should've been spending the time finding a new boyfriend who WASN'T a freshman.

And my tits? They're still excellent, don't get me wrong... but sometimes they take a little more hoisting than they should. Maybe it comes with the territory of being an E-cup, but that little bitch called gravity needs to cut it out. I've completely obliterated two bras in the last two months (and hi, E-cup bras are not cheap). I'm going to be the little old lady with a very small nipple-to-knee ratio if this doesn't stop soon.

But for as much as I notice the old, the old doesn't bother me too much. Because old is the new young, obviously. I happen to be a huge proponent of the recent 90s fashion flashback - you can never have enough stirrup leggings and grungy flannel in your wardrobe (and wearing originals back from 2nd grade is thrifty too!). And you can't really beat not discounting men in their 40s as potential life mates, right? Sure they probably lost their virginity before you were born (thus making it possible for you to be their biological daughter... in theory) but when they die in their 80s you'll still have a bunch of years left 'til you kick it... and maybe some life insurance money.

It's a win/win, really.

But every once in awhile, the old really hurts me deep down. And last night, old struck again.

I went to see the Ataris. In North Syracuse. (There are already two things wrong with this situation, but whatever.) And I saw an old man onstage setting up and sound-checking equipment. Ok, so not really old... just like I'm not really old. And as I watched him set up, I said to myself, "self, this man looks very familiar."

Probably because he was the lead singer of the Ataris. And he was old.

I mourned for my childhood, I really did. Over ten years ago, I heard my first song by a fresh-faced Kris Roe and have been attached to the band ever since. And the band grew up and I grew up and now we're both getting old, except that their music hasn't aged and seeing a tired mid-30s man behind a guitar where a young, bleach blonde punk rocker used to be made me a little sad and nostalgic. And when I politely requested that they play "Hey Kid!," Kris said he couldn't play it... because he didn't remember how it went.

The old... it hurts.