grow old along with me, the best is yet to be

It's no secret that I'm getting older. Physically, my body is aging, and I think I am okay with that. Mostly because I'm counting on getting a perfect one when I'm resurrected. I know this sagginess and wrinkling are only temporary. 

There are other signs, too. My daughter bought her first training bra. I found my first gray hair. I heard the music I liked in high school referred to as "oldies" by my little brother. I refuse to take part in a lot of the fashion trends because I already did it once. 80's fashion. **shudder** (I can't say it enough. Skinny jeans really don't look good on any body shape unless your thigh is smaller than your calf. Sorry, I'm just sayin'.)

Over the weekend, Mr. Coleman and I went to see Jack's Mannequin in concert. They opened for The Fray at Usana—a really cool outdoor concert venue. Our tickets were GA Pit, which means we got standing room up close and personal. I loved JM. It was fun to sing along, dance, and bounce up and down. Their lead singer is geeky cool and I have a special place carved in my heart for a piano playing man. Especially one who performs in flip flops and jumps on his piano and can do the splits. Really rad.

But then.

A group of teenagers moved in right next to us. The pit was not crowded. There was plenty of room for everyone to stand around without smashing up against each other. Also, The Fray isn't really mosh pit type music. Very mellow. However, this group of teenagers included one about-sixteen-year-old girl who thought it would be awesome to continuously jump into me. [Picture in your mind that behind her was about 20 feet of OPEN space. Plenty of room for us all. Oh, and it was 104° outside. Toasty.]

I tried to hint that she was crowding me by elbowing her very politely in a smooth dance move. Didn't work. So then I mentioned to her that I didn't appreciate her jumping on top of me. Her reply?

"This is called the pit. If you don't want me jumping on you, you should go sit on the chairs with all the old people."

Which I found strange, since as far  back as I can remember I never liked random strangers rubbing their boob up and down my arm. No, never. Even way back when I was 16. That has nothing to do with age.

We ended up leaving a bit early, more because we didn't love The Fray in concert and we were hot and tired of standing for three hours on cement. Part of me wanted to stay just to spite my young new friend. But in the end we found we could care less what she thought of us.  I guess we are just getting old.