Not Cool

I showered, plucked my eyebrows, spackled on makeup, curled my hair and squeezed my feet into heels last night. I wore real clothes, not stretch pants, and dangly earrings because there would not be tiny hand trying to pull them out of my ears. No. We were going to a party. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was feeling cool. 

Until I had a terrible "old" moment. A girl I had never met walked into the party and I started talking to her asking mundane, small talk party questions. 

"How do you know the hosts?"  

"What do you do for a living?" 

"Where are you from?"  

"Ft. Worth you say?"  

"No way, I went to high school in Ft. Worth. Nolan Catholic." 

"Me too!!"

What a small world I thought. I wonder if I know her. I don't recognize her but maybe she has changed a lot since then.

Then I asked that fateful question that would make me feel like a fogey for the rest of the night. It came out of my mouth before I even realized what I was setting myself up for. 

"What year did you graduate?"

Dun, dun, dun. 

"2006"

Pardon?  Do my ears deceive me?  Surely I heard her wrong. This cannot be. Not only did I not know her, but we were never even at Nolan at the same time. I had already graduated from college then. Shoot, I was MARRIED then!  Not cool. 

Feeling old and frumpy I could only manage, "Oh. Well I was gone by then."  I skulked off and started drowning myself in champagne. And by the way, drowning yourself in champagne is not a good idea when you didn't graduate from high school in 2006. 

This is a new feeling for me. I have always been the youngest. Youngest in my class. Youngest at my job. Youngest of my friends. Not cool. Most of the time I still have a hard time remembering that I am an adult. My mind still thinks I am 18. 

But when I woke up this morning with a brick in my head and a tornado in my stomach I was rudely reminded that I am not 18. Not cool.