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Not That Cool

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My daughter came across my old scrapbook and demanded to know, “Who is this really cool chick?”

Well it was me but do you think she’d believe me? Why is it so hard to believe that I could be cool—or was even very cool at one time in my life? 

Somehow, “Wow—this is SO retro” just does not seem to be as big a compliment as I had hoped. I guess it is easy for me now to understand that whole “mid-life crisis” thingie. Perhaps that is what happens when we suddenly are faced with being “Just not ALL that” anymore, but I think I must have a choice.

Looking in the mirror I see the fine lines and at times they feel like giant crevasses that I have managed to crawl through during my life. Why must there be evidence all over me? I close my eyes and take an inventory and I am still that really cool chick—I am just a slightly older—okay perhaps a lot older. Why can’t that just make me even more cool?

Last night I looked through that scrapbook and memories washed over me like they happened just yesterday. Dancing on Soul Train with Bo Derek Braids … who could have possibly been as cool as me? It is just impossible. Could I dance like that now? Hell yes—but I wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Okay, I’ll give you that one. Perhaps I am older.  How about that time I scaled a cliff without safety gear just because I knew I could do it? Alright that was just foolish I know—but I did it.  Doesn’t that make me cool? Perhaps not.

What would make me cool in the eyes of a fifteenyear old? Seriously I don’t think it is possible. I mean, I am one of the coolest people I know and if I can’t be cool then who can? The coolness factor is now questionable and that is frightening. You should be frightened … I am. 

I am looking at the pages in that scrapbook like it will contain the miracle answer … and of course I know in my heart it will. OH man … I just read something I wrote in there, if you must try to be cool—you aren’t. What was I thinking back then?  Could that be true?

Of course, if I was absolutely cool then—I still am. Why do I doubt myself or my coolness now? Of course I am cool. I am as cool as a fifty year old woman can be. Damn cool. Why is being cool so important? I guess if I had to choose between cool and beautiful … wouldn’t cool be ageless? What about beauty? I guess it is reasonable to think that if a “coolness” factor can transcend time shouldn’t beauty too?

Okay let’s just suppose for a moment that beauty changes, it is still there right? Of course it is so why wouldn’t cool morph into even more coolness as I age?

I can’t imagine how I suddenly became so uncool. I called my mom and asked her. She’s cool so she’d know right? She assured me that I am as cool as ever but my daughter had blighted coolness vision. My Mom said that she will be healed about the same time she becomes a Mom herself.

Damn. I hope I am “uncool” for a long time. I am not ready for that kind of cool.


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