For Ella and Cole

My dear baby cousins who are now over a year old, I realized two things last night at work:

One, I wrote some part of this series over a year ago but never actually followed up with another post… My bad. I’m sorry. That will change, I promise.

Two, I am officially no longer hip with the times.

^Being that you’re reading this in the future when you’re all grown up, you’re probably both laughing your heads off thinking: NO DUH. But I promise, there was a time when I was cool and in-the-know. It’s just already ended, apparently.

I sound like such a grandma, good Lord.

Anyway, I am 19 years old. Nineteen freaking years old. But I’m pretty sure at least five different people of all ages, races, and genders called me “ma’am” as I was ringing them out yesterday, and I had multiple teenagers address me by the same title as they asked me questions about the store.

Now, yes, there are times when that happens, but they are normally very rare and scattered. Like, one person calls me ma’am every three months, and I am either “miss” or “excuse me” to everyone else. Not last night, though.

It wasn’t even like I looked dowdy, either. My outfit was on point (lingo!), as my coworkers and many customers clarified. So it’s not like they thought I was some frumpy, old lady based on the way I was dressed.

Anyway, on any other night, I would have just taken the whole ma’am thing as mere coincidence. But last night, I couldn’t. Last night, something else happened that made me realize I’m simply losing touch.

As I was folding shirts, a guy in his early 20s started to approach me. As he moved closer, he asked one very simple question: if we had any “jords” left.

I thought at first that I heard him wrong, because he was pretty far away when he started talking, and what the heck are jords??? So I asked him to repeat himself. The same question came out.

I must have looked pretty confused because he instantly said, “Jords. You know, jean shorts.”

At first, I thought he was just trying to pull my leg and show off cause he was in there with all his rowdy friends. My coworker, who is in her 50s, ended up showing him where the shorts were (cause I had no clue), and when she came back, she was just as confused about “jords” as I was.

But then my sister came over, and when we told her what the dude called them, she simply said, “Oh, yeah. I know what jords are,” and walked away.

“Jords” is not a made up word by some 20-something trying to be cute. “Jords” is a real thing — a real, hip thing — and I had no idea about it. I’m uncool, guys. I’m finally starting to be uncool. This is not okay. I’m too young for this.

Maybe I should start reading more TeenVogue…

Anyway, just be wary, Ella and Cole. You think you’re gonna be young forever, but you won’t. I’m still a teenager, and I’m already starting to age. What the heck.



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