In Between

There is a place called IN BETWEEN.

Plasma knows what I'm talking about. Not a solid or a liquid or a gas, poor plasma is IN BETWEEN.

RE is also in that terrible place. She's too old for toys but too young for a cellphone. She's too big for kid clothes and too small for the junior department. She emails boys but can't hang out with them yet. She loves her parents but has started to think that hanging out with us on the weekend is similar to prison. TWEENDOM. Terrible.

I realized yesterday that I am an ADULT TWEEN. Is there a word for it besides thirty-something?

I'm a saggy caterpillar with one wing in a permanent cocoon. I'm not young and dewy but I'm not old and leathery. I'm not Forever XXI nor am I Talbot's. I like facebook but think Twitter is #stupid. I have a smartphone but no ringtones or apps. I listen to Classical 89 in the car because FM radio is mostly offensive.

I think I'm too old for lip gloss and maybe Zumba. I would rather buy new cookware than new clothes. There is little good on television and I can't remember the last movie I went to. I want to be fashionable, but not if it means I have to have a colored bra showing through my sheer shirt.  Jessica Simpson shoes throw my back out just from looking at them. I secretly wish I could wear a fanny pack, suspenders and sneakers with custom orthotic inserts every day. I'm at the point in my life where sensibility trumps the cool factor.

I need anti-acne and anti-aging products simultaneously. I don't want to hang out at the mall nor do I want to eat supper at 4 pm. I don't know the Kardashians or the Real Housewives of Anywhere, but I get super-excited when a new Good Luck Charlie tapes. I'm allergic to fragrance and paranoid of the toxins in nail polish - I may never smell divine or sparkle again. I worry about the cost of health insurance while kids half my age are worried about prom dresses. Stretching is essential to my health.

I got called ma'am twice at the grocery store yesterday which nearly sent me into a sobbing fit. I am not a ma'am. I'm a miss. Aren't I? I want to be pigeonholed. I like the structure and order of being clearly defined. Young or old? Which am I?

I'm IN BETWEEN.

*quote by Marilyn Ferguson