By Guest Blogger Stephanie Mannuci-Polnak

Gah, when did I get so damn old. Age is an insidious bitch isn’t she. One day you are riding high on beguiled wings of co-ed glory and the next you are rewinding your 35 year old, deflated boobs back into your bra like a gutted cassette tape. Uhg….

I’m not sure when that transition happens, you know, when you stop living the glory days and just start babbling about them with that pitiful, blank, 100 yard stare. For me, it was this weekend when I experienced the epiphany that I have crossed the bridge from being compared to a fine tuned Ferrari, to an old jalopy with a leaky tire, saggy squishy interior, and a constant check engine light beckoning for attention. And what is that pungent musty smell that lingers in my nasal cavity, is that me?

I was invited to go out. Not to the mall or to Target, that’s too easy, rather the invite was for drinks and merriment, whoopee….. Bar hopping in your 30’s is exhausting af. Essentially, it means I have to stay up past 9, which is something I generally refuse unless it involves chocolate, while laying in bed naked, and binging Netflix, YOLO. The jury is still not sure why, but I agreed to go out, and as I sit at the bar, completely unimportant to the group I am with; I have plenty of time to contemplate my aging social station. To be clear, I fall somewhere between being too young to wear a diaper, but old enough to not have inhibition about pooping in a public restroom. I’m brazen, what can I say?

Just like me, I’m sure there was a time you were familiar with sitting at a bar, the ditsy chatter, fast hands of frat boys, and drinks so strong they could purify your insides to pseudo virgin status. After real life, husband, kids, and the confidence killing back fat, that familiar comfort is axed by uncertainty and the proverbial smack in the face that this is no longer your place. Your seat at the bar has been taken by hot chick 2.0, and your generation is no longer accepting updates. You are outdated, we are outdated.

Dammit, when did this happen? I mean, just yesterday I was out with my college girls, confidently wearing necklines so plunging that I was a nip slip away from indecent exposure. Today, I am friendless and literally slipping on my droopy nipples.

As shwasty 20 somethings bounce around me, slim bellies up to the bar, I realize I might never know when I went out of style, just like the 90’s anorexic eyebrows. Anyone else living with permanent waxing regret? The bar is deafening, and I grip my skinny margarita in the same way I hold onto that pair of pre-baby jeans, and my college bikini. Probably the same way Deborra Lee Furness holds onto Hugh Jackman……with aging hands.

Stephanie Mannuci-Polnak is a humor and lifestyle blogger living in Winston-Salem, NC. When she is not writing rambling sentences and abusing ellipses, Steph can be found navigating mom life on the struggle bus. Follow her work at:

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