I'm not old, damn you.

So I’ve held the same job for 7 years with a really young team and always enjoyed my status as the surrogate ‘older sister’ of the group.  You know, the somewhat kooky confidante who gives great advice that everyone wished they had, like that weird but cool chick from Pretty In Pink that cut up her gorgeous retro prom dress into that 80s monstrosity that Molly Ringwald ended up wearing and everyone pretended was really nice. Seriously? The lace inserts! The cut-out sleeves! Oh the horror!

Not that I would do that.

But I digress…

So that’s my role. I happily go about my business thinking this is the status quo. Until this zinger the other day:

‘It’s awesome, you’re like the mum of our group’.

WTF?

Look I know consciously that I’m on the wrong side of 35 (ok, almost 39) and that technically makes me old enough to have been a (very, very, extremely young) mother to some of the team.

But a mother figure? I’m COOL dammit.

Aren’t I?

It’s like when my oldest and dearest friend Cathy’s eldest said ‘I dreamt last night that I was out clubbing with you and your friends back when you were cool’.

What do you mean, BACK when we were cool? I keep up with technology, I have an awesome personal style, I’m still hot! I know what WTF and FML mean. I have an Ipad dammit!

Then I re-read my opening paragraph and realised that I referenced a coming-of-age 80s movie, and not even one that stands the test of time with any dignity whatsoever. I scrolled through my playlist and realised that a large proportion of my most played songs date back to my heyday of the 80s and 90s. I remember a time when Michael Douglas was hot. I catch myself saying things like ‘I remember when everyone didn’t have a computer’ and feel compelled to go up to teenage boys with the HAIR and the baggy pants and the swagger and ask them ‘how’s that look working out for you?’.

And OK, I’m secretly correcting your grammar in my head.

Then my dad turned 65, and applied for a pensioner discount movie card.  And my stepmother informed me that I am now older than she was when she met my dad. My immediate response was ‘but you were so….’

‘Old? Is that the word you were looking for?’ she said.

‘Um….err….ah…no! I was thinking, grown up’ I quickly said.

And that’s the thing, I don’t feel grown up. My memory of first meeting my stepmother is that she lived and acted like a grown up, and despite the job, the bill paying, raising my 11 year old son (excuse me, 11 ½ year old son) I still feel like one of those weird John Hughes movies (here I go with the 80s references again) where the kid suddenly gets the parents body.  My initial rebellious reaction to do the opposite of what I’m told hasn’t changed one iota. I am still, if not even more, obsessed with pop culture and CW TV shows with the demographic of half my age. I still believe in true love and fairies at the bottom of the garden. Richard Gere will climb my fire escape and rescue me, even if I’m not a prostitute. I still make wishes to the universe and am astounded when they don’t come true. I will be winning the lottery tonight. Yep, my rose coloured glasses are still firmly in place.

And you know what? That’s quite OK by me. I realised that it’s all just perception – if someone wants to think of me as a mum figure, then fine. One of the benefits of getting older is gaining the confidence to just BE, and I realise I like who I am, whether it’s big sister/mum/crazy person, whatever. At the end of the day, I’m the main one who has to live with me so does others’ perceptions really matter that much?

And just like an 80s movie, I have decided no.

John Waters would be proud.