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#767: Just Older

A sequel to Getting More Tale #332:  Getting Older Everyday

 

 

GETTING MORE TALE #767: Just Older

Unless you’re a teenager buying booze with your fake ID, nobody likes being mistaken for older than they actually are.

When I was in my 30s, people used to think I was in my 20s.  I looked younger and I dressed younger because I worked at a Record Store and I could get away with it.  I bleached my hair, had piercings, and flashy shirts.  I saw people working at hair salons looking like rock stars so I thought the same could work for me in a Record Store.  Eventually I had a collection of over 30 flashy shirts.  I don’t think my bosses were impressed with my new image, but it was a hit with the ladies.

I loved looking younger than my actual age but all good things come to an end.

After quitting the store I wanted to change my line of work and look more professional.  The fancy shirts went into a closet.  The pleather pants were saved for Halloween.  The hair was toned down.  Eventually it started to go grey.  My beard turned white and I got fat.  It can happen to anyone.

I own the “old man” schtick now, but there is still one thing that I hate.  And I do mean hate.

Mrs. LeBrain is a little younger than me (I’m a 1972 model and she’s a 1978), but not by a significant difference.  Where she wins is a natural youthful look.  People always mistake her for someone much younger.  She loves being asked for ID.  That kind of thing makes her day.  What pisses me off is when people mistake me for her father!  And it keeps happening!

I took Jen to the hospital to have some tests done (no worries, all good) and had about an hour to kill.  I had an mp3 player loaded up with Kiss.  Because Heavy Metal OverloRd had been talking about Hotter Than Hell (a personal favourite and among the first Kiss records I ever owned), I decided to take a nice morning walk while listening to that album.  When done I progressed onward to Rock and Roll Over.  It was a lovely morning filled with cool summer breezes, trainspotting, and Paul Stanley at his peak.

I got back in good time and soon a nurse called to tell me Jen was all set to go.  She led me to her bed, and I saw a big bright smile on her face.  It’s the smile that keeps me going every day.  “Hi ‘dad’!” she said grinning.  I was confused.  Did she have a seizure?  Was she really mistaking me for her dad?

No, she was playing around.  The nurse asked if she wanted them to call “her father” to come and get her.  Me being her father!  Jesus Murphy….

I hate, hate, hate being mistaken for her father!  I didn’t even have my big white beard!

I’ll let it slide because those nurses did a great job as always, but c’mon!

I looked exactly like the guy in the photograph below.  I don’t think he looks old enough to be Jen’s dad, do you?

The hat, maybe?  The day I took Jen to the hospital I was wearing a Van Halen T-shirt and camo shorts with shoes and socks.

I have since shed the locks; a mixture of “shit brown” (my dad’s words) and grey highlights.  I now rock the bald head again, but do I look any younger?  I don’t think so.

It’s a game I just can’t win!  Though it doesn’t really matter does it?  Jen prefers me with less hair, and it’s a lot less work.  I was just keeping it long just to have long hair at Sausagefest for once.  I enjoyed that (it also kept my neck from getting burned), but long hair doesn’t feel nice in the summer time.  It’s time to go back to what feels good!

I have a birthday coming up this week, but I’m not old.  Just older!

 

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Sunday Chuckle: Are you trying to tell me something??

See below, for quite possibly the worst thing I have ever received in the mail.

This was stamped and addressed to yours truly.

Are they trying to tell me something??

 

#332: Getting Older Everyday

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RECORD STORE TALES Mk II: Getting More Tale
#332:  Getting Older Everyday

I’ve been lucky enough to marry a simply awesome lady.  Jen is a remarkable human being, but she also has one additional gift: the gift of looking perpetually young.  She still sometimes gets carded, mistaken for a student, and so on.

Meanwhile here I am: Captain Grey Beard.  I still look pretty young when I’m clean shaven.  When I have a beard, forget about it!  My beard started greying a year or two after marriage.  I don’t think the two events are connected…but you never know.

Now, things are so bad that I have twice been mistaken for Jen’s father.

The first time it happened, we were at the Keg.  It was Jen, her mom, and myself.  The server handed Jen a hot plate without enough warning and she burned her hand slightly.  While she and her mom went to the washroom to run some cold water on her hand, the manager came out to apologize.  He said to me, “I’m so sorry about what happened to your daughter.”

My daughter!  Oh man.  That was a shitty meal, I’m sorry Keg, but you blew that one!  None of us were in a good mood after that.

The second time it happened, Jen was meeting me at work.  She walked in as our shipping supervisor was heading out the door.  He’s a nice guy, about my age.  The following day, he asked me, “So who was the young lady that you were meeting here yesterday?  Was that your daughter?”

I didn’t stab him in the eye with a pencil.

And then, this past summer, something similar (and weird) happened.

Jen and I were out for a nice evening stroll.  There were some kids playing near the park by our place.  They were younger kids, none of them would have been older than about 10.  As we walked past, I heard one kid yell the following:

“LOOK!  That lady and that old man peed their pants!”

I looked around.  There was nobody else on the street!  They were referring to us, and I assure you that we had NOT peed our pants!  I don’t know where that came from, but it was probably the first time I’d been referred to as “old man”!