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recently, i have been dwelling a lot over “age”.

you know, our period of animate existence

this isn’t because i myself am slowly but surely creeping up towards the end of my terrific/terrifying twenties and loosely high-fiving my dirty thirties

but it is mostly on the grounds that i have been noticing less and less people actually accepting their maturity, and incontestably hiding from it.

at my current 28 years of subsistence, i have managed to still look almost identical to how i was when i resided in my teenage years (knock on wood)…

well, minus a few pounds (abundance) here and there.

actually, come to think of it, if you were to look at pictures of me in my infancy, i creepily have only grown taller (slightly)…

so i guess in a way this has been the reason why i allow myself to wear certain outfits that would perhaps place me in the “mid-20’s” category…

but nothing age inappropriate, of course.

so how is it that gobs of women, generously older than me, have granted themselves permission to dress like adolescent hoe-bags?

i noticed this heinous epidemic first-hand once again, just last week…

i was at a bar with a couple of besties/coworkers and while we were enjoying our third-ish drink, a woman walked in whom (from the back) could have easily passed for someone in their 30’s.

super tight skinny jeans (no ass), skimpy (mid-riff baring) wife beater and platform sandals (crusty toes)…

and then she made the awful mistake of turning around and exposing us to her face…

her wrinkled, saggy neck containing, face.

this, mind you, was not even the worst of it…

this woman, who was clearly well into her 60’s, had the audacity to sport FEATHERS IN HER HAIR!

now i have never really caught on to this dead-bird-in-your-hair trend, but it might mayyyybe be cute if you’re a youngster who is simply trying to follow in the foot-steps of their favorite teeny-bopper…

but when you’re fucking anywhere near, or in this case, past your mid-life, then you have a lot of nerve to even think that that’s okay!

this is concerning.

i was alarmingly worried for her…

like, what happens when she goes home (alone), removes that embarrassing façade, and has to come to terms with the fact that she’s actually 40+ years older than she was attempting to present herself as?

and to make matters even more awful, as she was shamelessly flirting with a semi-younger fellow, her entourage of geriatrics showed up…

unlike her, her Betty White-esque cohorts actually dressed their age, which only added to my mortification for her.

i get it…

getting older is not something that normal people have an easy time welcoming.

which is fine.

but trying to conceal the inevitable by dressing ridiculously should not be a solution either…

get your shit together, ladies!

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