Don’t trust anyone over thirty. -Jerry Rubin
If that quote above is to be believed, I’ve got only a few more months left of trustworthiness. At least to those who are under thirty.
The young. The ones who rock the vote. Or just rock. The ones who watch the MTV Music Video Awards. The ones who only know Ice T and Ice Cube as actors. Ditto, Will Smith, who they watched as the Fresh Prince… in syndicated reruns.
It’s strange to be thirty. Not old. Not even middle aged quite yet. I can see some fine lines forming at the corners of my eyes when I smile. My biggest skin problem, though, is still acne. Does Oil of Olay make zit cream? Or Oxy, wrinkle remover?
To Boomers and quite a few X’ers, I’m still a kid. Not to be trusted. I’m a texting, tweeting, pinning, Instagramming kid who updates her Facebook status more in a day then they have the past six months.
I totally get why advertising to me is a waste. I’m too old to get caught up in the whirlwind of buying an outfit just cause Rihanna wore it. Too young to have stacked any real paper for unnecessaries like luxury cars or trips to Asia. So I’ve got my iPad 2 and will tap away at it until it becomes so obsolete Apple stops making iOS updates that are compatible. Which, at this rate, will probably be sometime next year.
Which coincides with my 31st birthday. We will be irrelevant together.