Last night, during the bath and bed time chaos, I suddenly had an epiphany. I’m not cool any more.
I’m not saying I was ever THAT cool, but I’m SURE I had something about me. I must have. Surely.
It’s been playing on my mind for a while now, with two teenage nephews, I was sensing I was losing my touch, my geekiness was no longer “down with it”, it was just, well, “down”. But in my mind I still had a glimmer of hope, my love of clothes, celebrity and american trash, surely that meant SOMETHING.
However, last night, whilst I was teaching my wet, naked, three year old son how to do some dance moves and duet with me to “Let’s get ready to rumble” I lost that glimmer of hope. If I was cool it would be something by, er. Who’s cool right now? I’m guessing that the era of B*witched has come and gone hasn’t it?
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, The Beast requests the “1, 2, 3 song” in the car frequently (Girls Aloud, The Promise), and the songs I sing to my children are far from hip, for example we have “Dressed for Success” by Roxette, “We’ve got to eat it up” (Something Kinda Ooo by Girls Aloud), and “What the fatty fatty? what the fatty fatty? What the Fatty Fatty FAT BOY LARRY” (Fat Boy Slim). Plus, my day to day music taste is pretty much BC (Before Children).
Since last night, I’ve continued to dissect my life, my personality. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve not been cool for a while. Would a cool person refer to Rosé as “roséhoséjosérosé”? Would a cool person know ALL the words to EVERY Britney Spears song out there? Would a cool person take photographs of everything they cook, right from laying the ingredients out to the final plate presentation? Would a cool person remove a “bogie” from their 17 month old sons nose at the Doctors and wipe it on the seat whilst the Doctor was printing a prescription out on the computer? Would a cool person actually clap their hands in glee when they discover there are some more kitchen accessories in the Next Catalouge which match with their pvc table cloth? Would a cool person refer to things as “Gr00vy” and “Wikid”? And finally. Would a cool person cry at the final of Americas Next Top Model? (Oh, and would a cool person be told by their three year old son that that’s not cool”). No. I think not.
Where did it all go wrong? Was I always delusional? Was I NEVER cool? Or perhaps it was when I had the children? Was it the constant battle to not have a proper changing bag, just a mightyfine handbag that wore me down? (I managed with The Beast, but when Fatso came along and I had two sets of stuff it wasn’t as easy). Or perhaps it was the day I chose to wipe sick off my shoulder with a wet wipe rather then changing my top before I went out? Was it my job? Or is it just age. Was it a steady decline?
Either way, I need to decide what to do now? Do I wake up and start trying to get down wiv da kidz? Risk becoming an embarrassment, the Madonna of Lincolnshire suburbia, as opposed to the fabulous at forty Kylie? Or do I accept my fate? Succumb to my future? Become frumpy and middle aged gracefully?
Is there an in between stage that I need to know about? Is there a “not necessarily cool, but not down right dull” stage? If so, how does that sit? What clothes do I need to wear, and most importantly, can I still have Gin?