Things I No Longer Do, Now That I’m Old

November 27, 2014 — 78 Comments
I love this.

I love this.


After I pulled my Achilles tendon masturbating exercising last week, I had to face facts: I am old.

Not grandma-take-your-false-teeth-out-to give a guy a blow jay old, but

Middle Aged.

Let’s see. Today, I got excited about half priced asparagus.
Last week, I found a grey hair in my eyebrow. I tweezed that bitch out, and I think I scared the others away.


A few months ago, I turned 45. And it made me think about some of the things I no longer do, now that I’m old.



Those carefree days of college drinking to the point of getting your stomach pumped are over.  At 21, it’s cool to coming home puking at 5 am, wondering where your underwear went.

The last time I drank heavily, my old college boyfriend poisoned me with Vodka and Red Bull. It took me three days to recover. I laid on the couch feeling like a swamp donkey, praying my eyeballs wouldn’t fall out.

At this age, I realize that nothing good has ever come out of waking up on a strange lawn covered in mysterious contusions. Ditto trekking through the snow in the wee hours in search of a drug dealer and a bar still open.  Do you really think when you get inside that the shitty, drug-thirsty patrons are going to get more pleasant rather than desperate and sad? NEVER.



It’s no secret that I dress like a teenager in a frantic attempt to beat back death. But last summer my BFF staged a fashion intervention when I tried to pull off short shorts and knee-high boots. Apparently, at 45, it doesn’t say “fashion forward” as much as “old hooker.” Ditto the sky-high plastic heels from Frederick’s of Hollywood, which paradoxically, turn a confident sexy stride into a penguin shuffle.

She also encouraged me to light a bonfire and throw some of my slogan tee shirts in it. I guess Jesus really isn’t my homeboy.

However, I adamantly refuse to stop shopping in the junior department. Especially for panties. I feel safer knowing Spiderman is guarding my crotch.



As a kid, I was REALLY GOOD at Double Dutch. Damn.

It was sublime to be a white girl working it on a black housing project playground, executing a perfect Double Dutch circle turn – which is all about turning speed, leg position, and listening to the ropes.

While visiting my cousin in Brooklyn, I happened upon a group of kids jumping rope and decided to join in, to see if I still had it.

I didn’t. I was way less a Double Dutch diva and waay more a hulking Quasimodo, getting publicly flogged.



As a kid I always imagined I could walk in mid-air after stepping off a cliff. Sadly, I know better now.

I also realize that:

I can’t have access to any item, i.e., a canoe, by simply reaching behind me,

Getting electrocuted will NOT turn me momentarily into a skeleton,

If someone points a rifle at me, I cannot tie the barrel into a knot,

If I’m really surprised by what I’m seeing, my eyes will NOT temporarily pop out of my head. Accompanied by an AAAAAOOOOOOGA sound.



I used to love running around on a playground when Little Dude was 3 or 4. But somehow, I went to sleep on the eve of my 40th birthday with a youthful, supple back, and awoke the next morning with the back of an 85-year-old potato farmer.

Remember when playgrounds were fun? Sure, there was a good chance you’d be scalded by a hot metal slide, or walk away with tetanus, but that’s what memories are made of.

The ground wasn’t coated with soft recycled rubber as most are today – they were asphalt. Remember being hurled from a spinning merry-go-round, praying you wouldn’t end up a flesh-colored stain on the asphalt? Good times.



This was perhaps one of the most bizarre song/videos to come out of the 80’s. Someone, probably Johnny Depp’s acting coach, directed a crazy Canadian band called ‘Men Without Hats’ on a bizarre romp through a medieval village. This reenactment of a Renaissance fair gone horribly awry starred a handsome lead singer, a dwarf, and a deranged blonde woman.

Picture Tywin Lannister’s children tripping balls, and you have the idea.

When I did the Safety Dance 20 years ago, people recognized what I was doing. Now? Nobody understands that I’m flinging my arms stiffly into an “S” position. They think I’m having a seizure.



No one wants a lap dance from a drunken, makeup-smeared middle-aged woman at the company holiday party.

But when I was 25? I INVENTED that shit.



I may write things like, “I’ll cut a bitch!” But I never would say it out loud. No 45-year-old suburban woman should.

You’re sitting behind the wheel of a Honda Odyssey with groceries from Costco melting in the back. You’re in the parent pick-up line at school, not a character in Orange is the New Black. Calm the fuck down.



As a girl, I was obsessed with the Jackson 5. My early masturbatory fantasies involved Jermaine and Marlon duking it out over who would get to deflower me.

Even as a 20-something, I unapologetically crushed on Color Me Badd. You remember them, don’t you? Their big hit, “I Wanna Sex You Up,” was notable for coining the douchiest come-on line ever, and is probably responsible for making their sole source of income residual checks from VH1’s “Where Are They Now” show.

But nowadays? Un-uh. After I described to a friend a sex dream I had about Kendall from Big Time Rush, I was accused of being “creepy.” People! He’s only in high school on the TV show! The lad is 24!

Still, my advice? Go into ‘private session’ mode on Spotify. Otherwise, everyone can see your “recently played” list and you look like a pedophile.



That’s the upside to middle age. You take the “fuck you” pill. Life is too short to take people’s bullshit.

If some wealthy, self-involved, yuppie/hipster, granola-eating broad at Whole Foods wants to wrongly accuse me of jumping the line, she’d better not get nasty with me. Cause I will cut a bitch!


Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go yell at some kids to GET OFF MY LAWN!!



For your viewing pleasure: The Safety Dance
The power lines scattered throughout the Medieval village just add to the surreal, WTF? quality of it all.


What things do you no longer do, that you used to?
Talk to me.  I’m listening. 

78 responses to Things I No Longer Do, Now That I’m Old

    Helena Hann-Basquiat December 3, 2014 at 1:09 pm



    Not first, but – “No one wants a lap dance from a drunken, makeup-smeared middle-aged woman at the company holiday party.”

    I wouldn’t be too sure of that! At my age you’d be an “age appropriate, drunken, makeup-smeared woman at the holiday party.”

    Oh, and I remember the Safety Dance. Oh, the 80s…


    I don’t know how to dougie and I don’t want anyone to teach me.


    I had forgotten about the crazy blonde lady in the video. My gosh, it’s 10 times more awesome than I recalled!


      Right? It’s the BEST THING EVER!!!



        The funny thing is, I really did not like the video when I was a kid. It was weird. Now it’s FUCKIN’ HELL THAT’S WEIRD AND AWESOME! Funny how things change in a few short decades, isn’t it?

    Helena Hann-Basquiat December 3, 2014 at 1:14 pm

    So I had to race to to be frist, because I’ve never been frist. Until now.
    I still like to say hella inappropriate things, only ironically. Which gets me in a lot of trouble because “young people these days” (see what I mean) don’t understand irony. I blame Alanis Morissette.
    Double Dutch. Oh my god, I would pay to have seen that!


      Gurl. I was DAMN GOOD. It was one of the only things that kept me alive on the playground, I think.

      Wait, now how is Alanis Morrissette to blame? You oughta know…


        Alanis had a song named Ironic, which, ironically, offered as examples of irony a number of unfortunate situations that weren’t in any way actually ironic.


    At 34 I have no time nor patience for bullshit. And I WILL say I’ll cut a bitch out loud. Just how I roll, bitches. Don’t hate.


      I KNOW you would say that. But can you imagine me, with my 11 year old clinging to me, threatening to “cut a bitch?”
      He’s messed up enough already, without THAT.


    I feel your pain. I keep telling myself that I’m old enough to be Nick Jonas’ mother. So is it wrong to think he’s sexy x 10 and hope that he digs older chicks? Maybe but I’m gonna keep doing it. All I have left are fantasies. . . A girl’s gotta dream. lol


    There’s much more to being old than a FU pill. I wanna hear you say it.


    Can’t Hula Hoop anymore. What the hell happened to my waist? My hips? Holy hell, where’s my ass!!!


    The sad thing is, I have a much better body now than I did at 20. Something about clean living and all that. I look better in Daisy Dukes and skinny jeans now that I’m 46 than I ever did back in the day. AND I think Zac Efron is hawt. It’s not fair. None of it.

    I do have kids who are ridiculously easy to embarrass, so at least I have that going for me.

    I just wish I could rock the ladies night specials at the bar and still be able to work the next day.

    And the Safety Dance was my favorite! I still bounce around like a freak when I hear it. I can dance if I want to, you know.


    I’m old, too, my little flower. Do you know what? There’s a lot of stuff I can’t do that I don’t miss at all. Do you really miss those wine-soaked days?

    If you can still shop in the jr. department for your panties, then you are light years ahead of the 45 year-olds I know. Embrace it.

    “No one wants a lap dance…etc.” Speak for yourself.

    I’m so hung-up on my age that I never admit it to anyone. My face is holding up okay(ish) but numbers don’t lie. Don’t judge me. We’ve all got something. Some people watch reality TV. Some people smoke. I’m vain about my age.


      Ohhh, I LOVE that you called me your “little flower.” I’m swooning. I am.

      Well, you’re the second man to correct me about the lap dance thing.
      I stand (sit?) corrected.

      I’m COMPLETELY hung up on my age. Why else would I dress like an idiot? Just because I can fit into those clothes doesn’t mean I should wear them.

      I’m so worried about my skin I go to the beach dressed like a beekeeper. You’ll get no judgement from me.


    Go to a strip club. Now that I have a college freshmen daughter, no at you’ll find me in a place where girls are “working their way thru school”.


      It’s amazing how having a daughter changes your perspective on a whole lot of things.

      Strip clubs are bullshit, anyway. You’re not missing anything. 🙂


    I’m mere days from 46, but I still love the Safety Dance. And I tell my guy that I’ll cut bitches all the time (of course, the bitches in question are soccer moms who are sucked in by his amazing charisma). But pretty much “yeah” on the rest of them.


    “No one wants a lap dance from a drunken, makeup-smeared middle-aged woman at the company holiday party.”

    – come over to mine and I’ll gladly take one from you! Let’s head up to the Champagne Room! 😉

    It’s funny, but I think there is a big difference in being “old” and “older”. No matter your age if you can still rock it then do it no matter what people think. I’m also an 80’s guy, and just a bit older now, but far away from being old.


    Samara. You are hilarious. I almost wet my panties, which may or may not have Spidey on them…. 😉 ❤ you, girly!!


    Oh I love this…I love this so much. And I will still do the goddamn safety dance. Because I can dance if I want to.


    HA! I rock my 3 grey eyebrow hairs sister!! I no longer care as much about what other people think of me, as long as I am true to myself. I too, no longer party all night. Although I have a few years on you, the Safety Dance video was a new one for me. I love the tune and fashioned my own safety dance. Now I see how wrong I have been doing it. I still wear my hair long however, for me, giving up the long locks is a sure sign of getting older. “its so much easier to take care of” etc. Blah blah blah. The last time I cut my hair fairly short, that was my first thought. Have I gotten old??


      I love my long hair. I feel like a spry wood nymph- until I look at my face.

      Man, I’m so glad a get a full Brazilian wax. If I ever saw a gray pube, I would probably faint.


    Oh, girl. I know. I’ve been seriously feelin’ my age lately. You wanna know what’s old? Dislocating your knee at random times. Yeah. It’s happened to me half a dozen times. One time I was just rolling over in bed. That’s it. Knee popped out. But- I refuse to dress my age. I still shop at Forever 21 and American Eagle. I. Don’t. Care. And I don’t talk gangsta because I never could pull that kind of thing off (even when I was young. always been a dorky white girl.) But I will totally text gangsta with some of my girlfriends.


      Those random injuries suck, right? Like throwing your back out from a sneeze.

      Or just waking up with an excruciating pain, and wondering, “When the hell did I get stabbed here?”

      I’m sorry, but Forever 21 fits my budget. And my style. What am I supposed to do, shop the Betty White collection at Chico’s?


    I was so excited the other day when I went to Walgreens and found these visor shade things I’d seen on an infomercial. I bought them and excitedly showed my husband that night, saying, “I can drive at night now!”
    And then I realized I was middle aged.


      I have the worst night vision. The WORST. I actually dread long trips to unknown destinations, knowing that I’ll undoubtedly get lost on the way home, circling endlessly in the dark.

      It’s Dante’s Tenth Circle of Hell.

      When I start wanting dinner at 4:30, just put me out to pasture.


    Oh, you’re still a beautiful hoot Samara. You wanna hear something that will make you feel OLD? How about going for your annual eye doc appointment last week and hearing for the first time: “Well, you’ve got age-appropriate cataracts going on but you won’t need surgery until you’re 75 or 80.” All I heard was “cataracts.” I turn 57 in two weeks. Help!!


      But you look like you’re 37! So I demand to see your drivers license!

      Your comment reminds me of that Louis CK skit, where he finds out his ankle is bad. But the doctor tells him there’s nothing wrong with it- he’s just old, basically.

      Whatcha doing for your birthday??


        Thanks, I’ve kept the old-guy looks away from the face so far. Except for the creeping cataracts, apparaently, Samara. Yikes. In reference to Beth’s comment, no wonder I can’t see like I used to driving at night!

        For my birthday, I’m thinking a nice dinner out. That’s what we usually pick. 🙂 But sometimes Karen chooses to play chef instead. We’ll see. Going out is easier for her.


        My eyesight is terrible! I’m already don’t that “hold a menu out so I can see it” thing.

        Going out IS easier. Food needs to be bought, prepared, and then cleaned up afterwards. Ugh. I’m sure you’re worth it, though 🙂


    Couple of things:
    My son didn’t believe that I could go across the monkey bars last week, so I did. Like a boss, and then I went backwards to show off. It hurt really bad the next day, but I felt like Fuggin Wonder Woman.

    When I worked at the piano bar in college, we had an entire routine to Safety Dance, and yours truly played the keyboard for it. That song will forever be…well…I’ll forever recognize the chords.

    Boy bands? I get it. More than I should. I had a not so secret crush on Twist from The Fresh Beat Band. Yes, the band that plays on friggin Nick Jr. And I don’t even really like white guys….

    I don’t care what anyone says, YOU do, wear, drink, dance, what you want. As far as I’m concerned, 45 is the new black. (snickers…get it? ^^^)


      You’re so cute I can’t stand it!

      I MUST hear Safety Dance on piano. That can’t be true! Really? And I can still climb the monkey bars, if I don’t mind being in a full body cast the next day.

      The one thing about 45, my libido is off the chain. You think you’re like a teenage boy now? Wait a few years. Holy crap.


    I am picking glitter out of my eyelashes as I type. Glittery eyeliner is my vice. I frickin’ love it!! Apparently…my friend seems to think 32 is way to fucking old for that shit. Good thing she doesn’t have to where it!!


    I got nothing ‘fun’ for this, cos…well, can’t really join in.

    But I will say this. I work with a lot of elderly people – yaknow, ACTUAL old people – and honestly, what they say about age being a state of mind is SO true. I’ve met people in their late 50’s who shuffle and ACT like they’re elderly. They tend to ramble and lose the thread and they’re quite fragile. And it’s sad.

    And I’ve met people in their 90’s who are sharp as whips, agile as anything, FABULOUS dressers, and act like they’re still in their 20’s and it’s AWESOME. Those are some of my favourites.

    You don’t ever, ever, need to be ‘old’. And at the moment, you’re not even close.


      Oh, I love to be around elderly people who can regale with me tales of times gone by. They just know SO much! Which reminds me – whatever happened to your Tales From the Van?? That was a fantastic feature. You wrote about a WW2 vet, was it? Fascinating stuff.

      I adore the post image I used – a sassy, funky elderly woman, who marches to the beat of her own drum. That’s JUST how I want to be 40 years.

      (psst! I love my age. Shhhhh)


    45 is nothing and waking up beside you each morning would be as delightful as afternoon tea at the Ritz.

    It’s weird how often and easily I’d turned up to work with a hangover in days gone by… I simply can’t hack it these days.

    Redbull vodka is fantastic stuff though.


      As delightful as tea at the Ritz? *blushes*

      Red bull and vodka was absolute poison to a lightweight like me! I don’t remember most of the evening. Never. Again.


    I had impure thoughts about Harry Styles for weeks after seeing the One Direction concert with my daughter. Then I heard him talk on Jimmy Kimmel. I like my fellas to be able to put together a sentence.
    As for that lap dance thing…sad those days have to end isn’t it?


      See, you HAVE an excuse to go see those boy bands- your daughter! My son is just not into the boy bands (although a few years ago we did see Big Time Rush- hence my crush).

      About that lap dance thing- judging from the response here, I think I may have made a mistake about that…


    I LOVE the lady in the pic at the beginning! I want to be her when I get old. 😀

    I laughed the whole way through this, but having let’s just say ‘several’ years on you, my motto is: “Life is too short to take people’s bullshit.” Wear, do, say and be, whatever rocks your boat!


    You don’t have to yell, I’ll get off your lawn… it’s just, well, everyone else was playing here and it looked like fun…


      YOU can stay.

      Everybody else? OFF!

      If it was summer, we could run through the sprinklers. Everyone stares at us when my kid and I do that, because I guess it’s kind of ghetto? Whatever. It’s AWESOME.



    Things I no longer do; hear those small voices in my head that used to say “nooooooo don’t do it!” You might put it down to ARHL. Personally I’d rather go with WTFN.

    ARHL = age related hearing loss
    WTFN = why the feck not


      I’m DEFINITELY going with WTFN!!

      So good to have you stop by! What have you been up to?


        Re activities; at about 30 calories a mile I recon I’ve burnt somewhere in the region of 248,100 calories cycling this year, or around 4 blogs every 2,000 miles (62,000cal per blog. Takes more effort than you realise. Another way of looking at it might be that I could have raised the temperature of 2.5 litres of water to boiling point….and made a great cup of tea)


    I’m with you on the intolerance for bullshit. As I’ve gotten older I’ve found I’m more willing to stand up for myself, too.


    “I feel safer knowing that Spiderman is guarding my crotch.”

    “What a long, strange trip it’s been.” 🙂


    I’m 38 and refuse to give up my short shorts. With boots, however, ehhh…


    I’m sorry to hear that you can no longer use the threat “I cut you bitch!”. And, apparently, you’re way, way too young to actually start threatening people with a lap dance.
    Also, I’d rethink Spider-man. You probably don’t want cobwebs down there 🙂


    I don’t hang out late in the city anymore. Mainly because I’m now a spoiled suburbanite with “Brooklyn guilt” (I feel bad every time I have to ditch to run and catch the last train).

    PS – I nominated you for a Liebster award in today’s blog post: Just payin’ it forward to blogs I love & yours is one! 🙂


    Holy shit; you’re the same at 45 as you must have been at 25 minus the wild lesbian experiences in NYC or whatever that weird shit was


    I’m gonna hit 50 next year and I am exactly the same; don’t really feel middle aged and I’m healthier now than when I drank myself into a fucking stupor (pre-marriage of course)
    Yeah, I live in Suburbia too but when the middle class assholes do stupid shit, I still get annoyed and will gladly tell the idiot ordering fifteen double whip fucking starbucks drinks to let someone else have a chance. And when they leave 15 car lengths, don’t fill the lanes and make me delayed even though I got laid off last year and have nothing to do anyway, well you know.

    Safety dance ? Classic. Love that pop 80’s shit as much as the shit kicking AC/DC and Metallica we rocked to before the dinosaur rockers were over the hill.

    I may never look fro another blog unless you were the blogging coach .

    Good shit !!


      I’m the same in spirit, but my wings have been clipped a bit by motherhood and suburbia. Good thing, too, or else I’d be dead!

      Thank you so much for reading. By the way, 50 is the new 30, haven’t you heard?


    You ever seen the literal version of the Safety Dance video? If not, check it out.

    And yeah, Red Bull and vodka will mess you up. I used to call the mix “legal roofies,”


    You crack me up! Watched the literal version and cracked up again. Thanks!


    You are NOT old! Although yes, you are probably starting to get messages about your physical shortcomings. However. You’re as young as you’re ever going to be so enjoy it. 🙂


    Oh god- this was the perfect post to read as I sit at home in my pj’s and leopard print snuggie nursing a nasty cold. That’s #1 on my list of things I should no longer do now that I am old- wear leopard print. I wear the snuggie as a momento of not getting divorced from my husband, though we did get to the next to last step in divorce court before he bought me said leopard print snuggie, we reunited and he enjoyed introducing me as his ex-wife wherever we went for months on end. Our marriage was saved and I have a lovely little 3-year along with a sassy 8-year old to show for our relationship.

    I still listen to hip hop, trance and electronic music, as I did in my younger years. I am totally to blame for my eldest serenading the family with Maroon 5’s song “Animals.” I had to have a chat with her that the lyrics were not about animals on a cartoon, but a…adult animals using adult words that she should not say out loud. Awkward.

    Moving on- I also cannot pick up attractive strangers on sites such as Adult Friend Finders and bring them home without concern about their recent release from prison. Bad idea in my twenties, horrible no-go as a middle-aged mom.

    Next- picking up beautiful women. I’m still holding out hope on this one. My husband and I began our relationship a decade ago with my insistence that it be an open relationship. I had just escaped an emotionally abusive first marriage and was in no hurry to be tied down again. Open relationship plus drug addiction do not make for a healthy marriage, or well-thought out choices on whom to sleep with. Having grown up and gotten sober (after being abducted, robbed and raped by a friend of the family that babysat my eldest daughter) for 5 years now, my husband has given me the green light on finding a lady friend. That was a lot easier to do when I was younger. The mother down the road is gorgeous, her son goes to the same school as my eldest and her husband/boyfriend is back in jail. I’ve had many a fantasy about an adult play date with her, but my skills at getting smart, sexy women to bed are very, very rusty. I fear I will be a creepy senior citizen hitting on young nurses if I do not get to sleep with at least one woman of my (sober) choosing before I am ancient. It was a lot easier to hop into bed with men, women and a gorgeous trans man when young, foolish and drugged,

    Last but not least- get various body piercings and then remove them for gainful employment, get pierced again. Also, no more free tattoos, which I enjoyed immensely as part of my first marriage, as husband #1’s best friend was a great tattoo artist. I have my future tattoos planned- first a cover-up of cartoon version of Husband #1 on my leg (he took care of the cartoon version of me swiftly after divorce by turning me into a horrific looking drag queen. I still wonder if his friends or second wife figured out this not-so-secret turn-on of his after this tattoo! Second- cover up the free engagement ring tattoo from first marriage as husband was still paying for the engagement ring for the fiance immediately prior to me and remained broke, and reliant on me for everything for the duration of our ten-year marriage.) Full sleeves! Tattoos are hella sexy. I’m holding out hope that after successfully suing the neurosurgeon who made up a brain surgery procedure instead of following protocol, and then charged $10K for the service. He massaged my cranial nerves- which is equivalent to a foot massage for a broken hip, and then made up various tests to “prove” the diagnosis and his opinion that I would be in horrific pain for the rest of my life. After running a crowdfundraiser, borrowing money from family I saw the expert in this disorder 2,000 miles away. Verdict- I was misdiagnosed and never should have had a brain surgery to begin with. Lovely. I can’t wait to take him to court, and then get a celebratory tattoo!

    Thank you for making me laugh for the first time in a week! I love your blog Samara! For the record, I don’t think you’re too old to do any of the things on your list, but I can absolutely relate to desperately trying to not be a regular suburban mama. I was a rebel, an artist, a dreamer and lover in my younger years. I’m not quite ready to call it quits on all my youthful but now strange habits now that I’m not young! Turn on the rap and make eyes at the mama’s at elementary school. I may be old and in pain, but I’m not giving in to old age without a fight!

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