it could happen to you, too

In our town, there is a place called the Dugout where you can drive thru and get drinks or a gallon of milk or a tasty deep fried meal. A few days ago, it was unusually nice out (meaning that the wind was a calm 30 miles per hour instead of the normal 60 mph) and so the line at the Dugout was long. I didn’t mind though, as at this point in my life it seems that time is the one thing I have an abundance of.

So there I was, six months pregnant, very windblown, and driving my mom’s old silver Buick when I saw the car in front of me. It was a red convertible with the top down, full of cute little teenage girls. They all had cute hair and trendy sunglasses and tight little shirts that flattered their tiny little high school bodies. And at that moment, reality slapped me in the face - I AM NOT COOL ANYMORE.

I quickly dug through my purse in a panic to see if there was anything that could help me - lip gloss, sunglasses, anything. Unfortunately, all I came up with was countless gum wrappers, a pacifier, three peanut butter crackers, and a lint-covered prenatal vitamin. I looked down to see that my shirt was tight, too, but instead of being flattering, it looked like I was trying to shoplift a basketball and some dishtowels. I adjusted the gigantic elastic waistband on my maternity pants and gave up.

But it left me wondering - how did this happen? I USED to be cool, at least I think I was. It didn’t happen overnight which is probably why I didn’t notice. I didn’t go to bed "cool" one night and wake up the next morning wearing maternity clothes, a retainer, and with "crockpot" at the top of my birthday list. No sir, it was more like a slow leak in a tire that has now gone completely flat.

The problem is I’m not ready to be UNcool. I don’t want to wear tapered leg jeans or Rockport shoes . For crying out loud, I’m only 30! I need to regain a tiny shred of cool in order to retain my sanity. But how?

Is this what a midlife crisis feels like? Because I’m suddenly tempted to buy a motorcycle and change my name to Cinnamon. Or at least take "crockpot" off my birthday list...