Mr. Big Isn't So Hot Anymore

I am glad that he's still working as an actor, even if it's just Law and Order Special Victims Unit but what's more depressing is that he is starting to have a craggy face that makes his nose look larger, and he's got bags under his eyes. Mr Big, what has happened? It's happening to me too. I am getting old, I am getting to the point where people will start giving my birthday cards that jokingly say, Over the Hill! with black balloons. I hate it. The culture of youth. I saw a bunch of teenage girls walking to Catholic school this morning in really short pleated skirts and black tights. One girl was behind the rest, and she had an armful of notebooks and folders clutched to her chest. She is that girl who sits in the front of the class and raises her hand first. I tried to remember what it was like to be in high school--what things did I dread? Everything. Did I have my gym shoes for PE? Would we have to play softball (I was not athletic)? Did I finish my homework for English class? What was for lunch? Would I see the boy(s) I had crushes on? Was my outfit stupid? What I got my period in the middle of giving my speech? Oh, God, did I have my notecards for my speech? What if I failed? Did I have a math quiz? What if I failed geometry and didn't graduate on time? Does Mr. Nichols hate me? Does everyone know that I crank called Joe DeVries on Sunday night? And what do I worry about now when I'm on my way to work? I worry about what I might need to do for the day and then I usually daydream and people-watch. I still worry a lot about all of the what-ifs--what if I fall down the subway stairs, what if I don't have a token and also can't find any money--but it's not the same level of stress. I don't know why once you're an adult, you start remembering your youth fondly when the truth is that when you're in the middle of it, all you want is to be older, to have freedom, to not care what people think (that never goes away), to not have to study for an exam, to stay up all night if you want, to stop getting crushes on guys who aren't interested (that still hasn't gone away for me either).

Comments

Ben said…
Where as I used to have isolated patches of hair on my chest and stomach, the two have now joined forces, spreading over my entire chest and belly. but they're still not satisfied. my chest hair is now encroaching upon my shoulders and my back is showing signs of surrender. i've even found gray hairs in places where they are not welcome. the point? in high school, i was more anxious about things that didn't really warrant the amount of worry i experienced. now, i experience less unjustified stress, but the things i am stressed about are truly worth the worry.
Anonymous said…
Hold on little girl
Show me what he's done to you
Stand up little girl
A broken heart can't be that bad
When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
So come on baby come on over
Let me be the one to show you

I'm the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside I hope you feel it too
Waited on a line of greens and blues
Just to be the next to be with you

Build up your confidence
So you can be on top for once
Wake up who cares about
Little boys that talk too much
I seen it all go down
Your game of love was all rained out
So come on baby, come on over
Let me be the one to hold you

Why be alone when we can be together baby
You can make my life worthwhile
And I can make you start to smile
Aimee said…
Oh, dear.
Anonymous said…
So "Hold On Little Girl" is the theme song for your love life?

Gotta love Mr. Big. (Not to be confused with SATC's Mr. Big.)

~celia
Aimee said…
Thanks, Celia. I am impressed by everyone's cleverness and knowledge on bands from the 90s. (Right?)
Liz said…
I never thought Mr. Big was particularly hot. There was just something about him that makes him so sexy. Maybe I feel that way because I have my own Mr. Big who I don't think is particularly hot...but I'd marry him if he asked. In Paris. After I broke up with Baryshnikov.
Aimee said…
It's the Mr. Darcy syndrome. These are the guys who appear like they could take or leave you and so you're always always trying to get their attention. However, at the exact same time, they also communicate the sense that they think you're the greatest person on earth and might kiss you at any second. How does someone communicate both of those things simultaneously? Maybe that should be our article for City Paper?

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