....I am older than I thought.
In my head I am 21. In my head I am living some other person's life, raising some strange kids, and married to some guy who wont let me spend money. In my head I'm just waiting for the minute I wake up and realize I'm still 21. I will get dressed in my size 4 slutty outfit, do my makeup way to dark and head out for the night intending to get too drunk and make some bad decisions.
My reality is much much different (except for the dude who won't let me spend money). And sometimes this reality jumps up and slaps me in the face. Hard.
Last night was my sister-in-law's surprise birthday party. My sister-in-law is 23. She is married to my little brother who's also 23. Most of their friends JUST graduated from college, and many are in the midst of their college experience.
At parties of people my age with kids, I am the "funny" one. I'm not tiny, but I'm not huge. And I'm generally one of the younger people in the group.
At this party, as soon as I walk in the door, I feel like an ancient sperm whale trying to tell jokes in a foreign language. It's just beyond uncomfortable. And me being me, I try and announce my uncomfortableness to the masses, (or whoever is standing close to me) by saying things like "wow, I certainly don't belong here" and "do you need me to change your diaper? I think I have one in my purse". You know, laughing at your self makes other laugh too, breaks up the weirdness.
Nope. Just made things weirder. Maybe jokes about me wiping their asses were only funny to me. Lesson learned.
To ease my feelings of fatness, I decided the best thing to do was to eat. A lot. I had like 4 plates of food. And by food I mean chips and taco dip and cookies and cake and chili. Looking around at the table I was sitting at I notice that I'm the only one with a clean plate in front of me. Not to mention the only one with 4 clean plates in front of me. I tried to be sly and push them toward my husband to make it look like he was the human garbage disposal. But then I looked over at the plates already in front of my husband, and realized that he didn't need my help in that area.
At one point the girl next to me asked if I wanted to play cards. I think to myself "FINALLY, something to do besides sit here and look old." I figured we'd play spades or hearts (are those the same game?) or something simple like this. I was right about the simple part, but forgot that "cards" to anyone under the age of 25 is just a way to ingest more alcohol whilst under the guise of playing a game. So that later they can blame the stomach pumping and herpes on a lengthy game of "circle of death"..
My husband and I decline the invitation and find another deck of cards and decide to play something else. We realize we have no idea how to play any card games except War and Slap Jack. We spend the next 30 minutes Googling "Gin Rummy". Someone we don't know walks by and says "Are you Googling how to play Gin?" She finds this funny enough to share with her friends. (None of which are clothed appropriately for 50 degree weather I might add).
In the end we couldn't figure out how to play Gin and play Slap Jack instead. So the oldest people in the room are at the table making too much noise slapping jacks, and having old people arguments about who won the hand. My pathetic-ness had reached a new low.
It was 10:30 and time for me to get the hell outta there. My self esteem had plunged to stripper-esque levels. I might have started undressing for attention had I not remembered that I hadn't nursed the baby since 7:00 and I would probably soak the poor kids with breast milk. My carriage turned back into a 10 yr old minivan and away we went.
Finally in bed, just as I'm sure the party was getting in full swing, (as was my husbands snoring. Beer makes it extra loud) I started thinking about the night. I had spent PLENTY of my own nights not too long ago just like those kids. Partying til the wee hours. Making those bad decisions I mentioned. But all the while, all I ever really wanted was what I had at that moment. Great kids and an amazing husband. My life is exactly what most of those chicks at that party probably wanted. The reality was, they were probably jealous of me.
Then my husband sleep farted. A beer fart. And I thought...maybe not.
