Youth Yearning
There are at least 25 reasons I wouldn’t be 25 again. I’ll write about it someday… In fact, I’ll write about it several times, since I think I can squeeze at least five blogs out of the misery of youth, using an average of five bullet points per post.
But there are definitely a few reasons why, every so often (like today), I wish I were 25 again.
- I didn’t worry about money back then. My job paid $6,000 per year, and I had a little apartment, an old car, and tuna casserole three times a week. I went to the library. If I had $5.00 left at the end of the week, I bought a coffee cake for the office.
- I still thought that any minute I would blossom. I’d have long beautiful hair, streaked with blond highlights. I’d have luscious lips and wide-set eyes. I thought there was still a chance I’d have a bosom. It was just around the corner…
my transformation into …
Peggy Lipton.
- At twenty-five I had just recently finished college. (Yeah, I know everyone else finished at 21. I liked school. I stretched it out by a few years.) Life was full of possibilities.
I could go to New York and live in a brownstone.
photo, NY Observer
I could see myself strolling down the street to my fabulous studio with a bouquet of flowers for my table and a loaf of French bread.
- And speaking of French bread, maybe I would end up as an artist in Paris.
This is Manet’s painting of Monet painting, but it could be me soon. And I even spoke French, as long as the conversation revolved around the pen on the table.
- I was never tired. I could go out dancing on a weeknight and get into work on time the next day. Evenings at home, I watched Johnny Carson. I never fell asleep at 9:01. My hips never hurt. My feet never ached.
- I was skinny. I had gained fifteen pounds in college, and that put me at 114. I drank milk shakes. I ate potato chips. Sometimes at the same time.
- Every man I met could be The One. So every day – every glance, every smile, every conversation held the promise of romance.
- And my most recent reason for wishing I were twenty-five again. I am in love…
With these….
Boots.
- Posted in: Aging ♦ Beauty ♦ Humor ♦ Memories
- Tagged: Édouard Manet, Claude Monet, New York City, Paris, Peggy Lipton
notquiteold 
Aaahh, Peggy Lipton! I, too, wanted to be Julie from the Mod Squad and did have her hair in high school. Great post!
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I hope you HAVE those boots, and the stones to wear them!
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I’m looking forward to 25 🙂
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I think those boots are 15! I could totally see my daughter wearing them!
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Oh no, they have to be 25 or I’ll feel even worse!
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If you love them, have them. 🙂 Someday I’ll write about the totally frivolous red suede boots I just bought, possibly from the same source!
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Yes, my French was the same as yours, I ate everything I wanted and weighed barely 100 pounds, and yes, my hips and feet ache now too! But I wanted to be “That Girl”, Marlo Thomas
Goodness, the things we have in common!
Great post!
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Go for them! Don’t take any notice of what anyone says (except me). Shoes can make a girl fell good at any age.
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Fast metabolism…that’s pretty much the only thing I miss from my 20s. If I ate now like I did then, I would need a forklift to remove me from my couch.
I’m very impressed by your French. I can point to a car and say “voiture.”
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Buy the boots! You’re young and life is full of promise. 🙂
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Despite the fact that I was fair and blonde, I wanted to look (and sing) like Cher and have all her fabulous costumes. Sigh!
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Ain’t it the truth? We always want something!
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The advantage of having passed 25 long ago? Who cares what others think of the boots! Go for it! Do they come in red?
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I love the yellow.
The ironic part is that if I were 25 and looked sweet in those boots – well, I couldn’t afford them!
If Youth is wasted on the young, then Money is wasted on the Old!
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At twenty-five I imagined myself as a blond, vivacious, drop-dead gorgeous Robert Redford look-alike type, and it showed, in my mannerisms, my walk, my talk and my youthful stature.
Now days, I look in the mirror and all I see is Willard Scott.
Life is so unfair.
DS
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HA! And…”oh dear.”
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Great post. I bet you’d look good in those boots with your skinny jeans.
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Ah, I loved the Mod Squad. “One white, one black, one blonde.”
I think you should get the boots. Why not? They would look dynamite with jeans and would make you smile every time you looked down at your feet. 🙂
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GET THE BOOTS! If you don’t, I will! And, gosh, I do yearn for the days when every man I met could be THE ONE. Even though I have married THE ONE. I still miss that anticipation…
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A transformation into Peggy Lipton would be a sweet dream! 🙂
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Love those boots!! Are you/we ever too old?? And – I wouldn’t go back to 25 for anything..in spite of all the sweet nostalgic memories!
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Oh my god, this was hysterical (and true and did I mention hysterical?!)!
Such a righful nomination from randomreasoning for the Liebster Award
You absolutely have a new stalker (although I guess the political correct term around these parts is “follower” – same difference), whose known for her longwinded incoherent ramblings, so live with it Lady. That’s the price we got to pay for glory! 😉
🙂 K.
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Get the boots! I have big problems with my feet making my shoe choices pretty limited. Can my feet live vicariously through yours?
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Yep, Youth IS wasted on the young. It’s not fair!
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