When Will I Ever Learn …?


I don’t think this really counts as a confession if I say that I am … not young.

I am not quite ready to say that I am old, but it is empirically true that I am … not young.

In fact, I read something a few months ago that said that they have come up with a new category for people in my age group …


I think I will stick with “not young.”

Anyway, when you find yourself not young, you also find that the time has come to accept the things that you probably will never conquer.  Brings to mind the old adage about dogs and tricks.  Anyway…

Here is a list of things that, given my stage in life, I must accept that I will probably never learn…

Which light switches control which lights in my house.

I  try every switch until I get the one I want.

Every time.

Sometimes I have to try three or four different switches until I get the right one.

I have lived here 9 years.

I don’t expect that I will suddenly figure it out.

My only solace is that my husband does this, too.

However, he  has an excuse.  He is more not young than I.

I need to keep my mouth shut when my kids are making decisions.

I just seem unable to accept that my children’s opinions are directly, and conversely, related to my own.

This is particularly the case in the context of clothing.  An example:

Me:   Ashley, isn’t this dress absolutely adorable?  It would look so cute on you!

Ashley:  Mom, it is hideous and I would not be caught dead in it.

By the way, Ashley is 8.  Imagine this conversation when she is 16.

But I still keep trying.

If I would just keep my mouth shut or, even better, point her toward the hideous, she will end up dressing like Coco Chanel.

If I keep making suggestions, she will end up dressing like Snookie.

This is an outfit chosen by Ashley to pick her dad up from the airport after I suggested a cute little dress.

Sorry this picture is so blurry.  I also will never learn how to take good photographs.

How to parallel park.

 I still will park miles away and walk rather than parallel park.  This, I’m sure, embarrasses my car aficionado brothers greatly, but there it is.

Actually, I blame them.  They never taught me.

Kind of like how they never taught me that you need to change the oil.  And that cars have other fluids.

There is a lot I will never learn about cars.

Certain things will never heal themselves.

On this list:  cars, appliances, and teeth.

I am always willing to wait, though.

Just in case.

Just because you buy the adorable outfit similar to one worn by Cameron Diaz (or any other gorgeous screen beauty), when you bring it home and put it on, you will not look like Cameron Diaz.

This should be obvious, especially given that Cameron is young, blonde, tall and tan, and I am (as previously established) not young, sort of red-headed, short and white as a ghost.

But hope springs eternal.

 It reminds me of a scene from a favorite movie, Educating Rita.  Rita is a hair dresser, and a client comes in, looking like this:

She presents Rita with a picture and says  “Make me look just like this.”

I don’t think it worked for her, either.

High-heels ALWAYS hurt your feet, no matter how cute they are.

They look great, but if you need to actually stand or walk, they kill you.

Every time this happens, I am surprised.  I put on the heels, I walk from the car (which, in all likelihood is parked ten miles away, because, as noted before, I cannot parallel park), and I am hobbled.

Surprised and hobbled.  How could these darling shoes do this to me?

Still, the next time an outfit calls for heels, I put them on, and the higher the better.

I am on the short side, you know.

Is it any surprise that I love high heels?

This is a shoe that I  particularly love.

Kate Spade platform peeptoe — faux reptile skin.  Four inch heel. I  scored them at Nordstrom Rack.  My idea of heaven.

They are a half size too big, but nothing is perfect.

Oh, and I can barely walk in them.

Here is another pair I love.

These are my size.

Can’t walk in them, either.

Walking is overrated.

At least I can always go home and put on my Ugg slippers.

How to tie those stupid leather laces on my Ugg slippers so that they stay tied.

I know, most of us learn how to tie our shoes around kindergarten time.

I never quite got the hang of that one.

Especially when it comes to those leather laces, like the ones on my beloved Ugg slippers.

Mine always look like this:

I tie them and re-tie them.  Still, they always look like this.

Now, I know I could simply remove the laces.  Instead, I stubbornly hold out hope that THIS time will be the one.  The one where I tie them so well that they stay tied.

I know.  When will I ever learn?

Oh well, you can’t teach a not young dog new tricks.


P.S.  What will you never learn?


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