Edge of (One Hundred and) Seventeen

I think my coolness quotient is slipping.

I was never what you would call one of the really cool kids.  I wasn’t a cheerleader or anything like that.  But I was sort of cool, and once I got away from high school I think my coolness quotient increased quite a bit.
I listened to cool music.  I wore cool(ish) clothes.  I smoked Marlboro Reds (not cool, kids! Smoking is bad! BAD!).
Somehow, though, as the years have increased in number, the coolness quotient has decreased.  Now most of the stuff I always thought of as cool just seems kind of, well, sad.
My uniform of jeans and a black tee-shirt isn’t edgy anymore.  It just says I don’t have the energy to care about my clothes.
My music is now the stuff of eye rolling and horrified looks.  The fact that I know all the lyrics to “Smells Like Teen Spirit” means nothing anymore.  How sad is that?
I quit smoking and now find myself contemplating the nutritional content (especially fiber) in food before I buy it.
Oh God, what’s happening?
Worse still, I sense myself turning into an old person.  I’m still relatively young, but not young like I used to be.  For example, my middle finger on my right hand randomly hurts now.  I guess it’s–gulp!–arthritis.  I try to rough-house with my son, and I say, “Ouch! Watch my finger!”
When I stretch too far, this little voice speaks to me.  It’s not from my head, though—it’s my back.  It says, “Careful, there—don’t want to pull something, do we?”
I have actually walked into the room where my son was listening to music, clapped my hands over my ears and cried, “Turn that down! Are you DEAF?!
I find myself immediately being irritated by people younger than me, and even saying things like, “Kids today have novalues! That’s what’s wrong with the world!”
I’m not sure how this happened.  I wanted to be the cool mom, the one everyone liked and wished was their mom.  Now I’m just another relic tottering down the path to fogey-hood, listening to Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and Pearl Jam.
I guess I should at least be thankful that I’m aware of my uncoolness.  Some poor parents actually believe that they can relate to their kids.  They listen to their music and dress like teenagers.
Oh well.  I may be uncool, but at least I’m not deluded.  Now, excuse me, but I need to go look at my foot.  I think I’m getting a bunion.
About the Writer
Janice is a stay at home mom of two kids, a wife, and caretaker of my disabled sister.  She blogs because she’s very opinionated, because she love to write, and because her insurance doesn’t cover psychotherapy. You can find her at The (not so) Special Mother.
About Guest Writer

Would you like to be a guest writer at Aiming Low? We offer keys to the Cool Kids Club and empty promises of fame and fortune. Find out how to get your hands on all that here.


  1. Last week I threw away two pair of jeans that had holes in them, because jeans with holes aren’t cool when you’re in your almost-40s. It takes one day. Maybe even one second. But suddenly, stuff like that turns you from cool to desperate…

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  2. Alexandra says:

    You write for the same reasons as I do: it’s psychotherapy.

    Love to meet the guest writers at AL: one of my favorite things about this site, the wonderful people of like minds that get sent my way.

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  3. janice says:

    I love that you put the lyrics with this! Awesome! This site rocks, and thanks for letting me guest post!

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    • JW Moxie says:

      I searched around for a picture to include with this post and knew that I hit the jackpot when I found one with the lyrics to “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I used to be one of those cool teachers who was current with all the modern music and lingo. Now I actually have to get my students to translate for me.

      I feel quite crusty.

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  4. We’re still cool. It’s everyone else that sucks. ;)

  5. Rachel says:

    You funny lady! Love the bit about your randomly hurting finger (LOL). I now have randomly cracking knees. I am sure the cartilage in my joints is disintegrating as we speak. You never really believe it is going to happen when you’re 20 and sympathetically helping your great grandmother up the stairs because her osteoarthritis has gotten so bad she can hardly stand never mind navigate stairs. I was also a big Nirvana fan and only recently realized how much that dates me :-)

    Now, Janice, you have me interested in checking out more of this site. The title alone, Aiming Low, Perfectly Mediocre, is enough to pique my mediocre interest. ;-)

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