The Kitchen Witch on You Know you're aging When...

Just last night a pal of mine and I were talking about Christmas wants and I was sharing my thoughts on the vintage inspired cloche hats which have made there way back on fashion plates again. 

see...now, if only I were as tall and thin as that woman, I'd pull off a cloche; no problem!

I said something about why I probably shouldn't ask for one because I never find my self dressing up anymore which lead the conversation down the path of how I know I've aged because I've turned into the old-hag-school-marm on campus-telling many a young girl to COVER. IT. UP.- in my mind, of course. ; )

No; you still can't borrow my notes, I don't care if you do show me your hooha, the answer is still no.  Cover it up, it's 8AM for Pete's sake!

I mean, some of these girlies are wearing next to nothing, in six inch heels, to an 8AM computer lab; no kidding.  I just don't have the desire to hurt my feet and freeze my legs. I JUST DON'T HAVE IT IN ME! (uh huhhhhhh-exasperated breath).  This is how I know I'm aging.

Flash forward to me and my 2:00 a.m. wake up call, this morning, and further evidence ensues.  I'm sitting in a rocker (hello-just the mention of a rocker evokes images of  granny-ness?)  My eyes are burning from being thrust into consciousness as the baby cries out while I try to focus my sights.  Focus.  Focus on the baby, I tell myself.  Confused, I'm rocking and patting mon petit bebe (probably  looking like a spastic monkey on caffeine) when the thought occurs to me; 2:00 a. m. wake up calls sure aren't what they used to be.

This, my friends, is how I know I've aged.