Old

I don't know about you but my mum always used to say to me "I remember when they were/that was in fashion the first time around".

I used to scoff "well you should have kept them/it for the younger generation then..." because, quite clearly, she was mistaken. What I was wearing was clearly much more fashionable, completely original and WAY cooler than anything she would have worn.

How ridiculous of her to even think it.

Tsk tsk.

Did these Grown Ups really think that they'd seen and done everything, or in fact anything, before me? Me? My generation? We were trail-blazing. I was original. We were educating our parents in cool. We were changing the world. My parents were old school (before old school was cool, obvs). And then it happened.

I turned in to my mum.

I think it happened last week sometime... in Boots.

I was looking at the pastel nail polish shades I'm currently sporting on my digits, and purchasing another (very this- and last-season Chanel, but not actually Chanel, I said I'd turned in to my mum. Not a millionaire), and I actually said The Words. The Words I swore I'd never say. The Words I swore I'd never say, for two reasons:

1. saying them would mean I'd officially become old, and
2. I would have no need as I was always going to be original.

So anyway, the words...

"I remember that first time around...." Lord help me, it got worse... "and back in the day it was much cooler as I wore a different pastel shade on each finger"... and the clincher "in fact I was a bit of a rebel". Jesus Christ. I'm not just old, I'm criticising the younger generation, and staking a claim on cool.

I could literally see Baby Griff squirming at my ancient-ness as the words came out.

But it's like bacteria, it's growing inside me. I've started telling Kids that the track they're listening to came out before they were born. Thinking that perhaps I should carry some flat shoes in case my heels start to hurt me. That I should steer clear of a particular bar because it's for Young People. That perhaps one of The Kids en route to the Young Person's Bar might like to cover up and wear something a bit longer/less tight/more covered up... and to be careful of having her drink spiked ("buy bottles, they're safer, but clean your teeth well when you get home")

So that's it. I turn 30 in six months. My mum turns 60 in two weeks. My dad's 61 in five months. My baby bro is not such a baby, and is bigger than me. I'm a god parent. My friends are doing the baby thing for the second time.

I have to admit it.

I'm a grown up.

Boo.

But help me out - I'm not the only one that remembers when Hard Candy released their pastel nail shades in their distinctive bottles with plastic rings on the lid. Am I? They could only be purchased on trips to London or on holiday in the US so they were saved for special occasions. Weekdays (i.e. school days) called for the cheap version. One shade on each nail, until Mrs Hall dragged me to her office and made me remove it (such a waste if it were the real thing!). Only for me to return to my class room and replace it with pastel coloured Tippex (you remember when they released that too, right?). So that when she shrieked at me in the corridor "Miss Hale, are you wearing nail varnish AGAIN?" I could look her right in the eye and with no qualms say "no Miss" with the sweetest of smiles (a.k.a. a massive smirk).

She still had me write lines (I will not wear nail varnish to school and will not cheek the teachers), which I maintain is unfair, as it clearly wasn't nail varnish. So I did my usual and wrote my own version of the lines (I should not be punished for crimes I did not commit). Which resulted in more lines (I will write the lines I am told to write). Well, that showed her didn't it?

See. I was a bit of a rebel.

P.S. Post coming soon where I explain why I'm not actually old and why I should not even be classified as a grown up yet. Brilliant.