My husband turns the corner decked out in a button up, long sleeve, striped shirt and dark jeans. “You can’t wear that!” I announce. “It screams out that you’re a middle aged man!!” He gives me a glare that says I AM a middle age man, but it does him no good as I tell him to march back to the closet and change into baggier jeans and an old t-shirt. Preferably a Rage Against the Machine t-shirt if he has one. He doesn’t.

I myself have changed three times settling on what I think looks more “grunge.” I’m trying my hardest to look 15…17 at the absolute oldest. We’re going to see the Glee concert and I’ll just DIE if I don’t fit in. I’ll. Just. Die. I paint my eyes with florescent green eye shadow and slide purple tinted lipstick across my lips. I take one last look in the mirror and happily decide that I look like a teen who’s trying way too hard to look older so that she can order a wine cooler from the bar. Mission accomplished.

We’re off. Off to see the Glee cast perform live and I can hardly contain myself. Glee! One more check mark on the bucket list.

Parking at Honda Center is less of a nightmare than usual. We enter the center and head for the beer line. It’s short since the majority of the audience is well under 21. I order my beer and some nachos and head to the side counter to add jalapenos. Not only do they have jalapenos, they have sourkraut! I pile both on my chips with a huge smile on my face. This is shaping up to be a good night! A very good night indeed.

We find our seats and sit. 5 minutes later I spill beer on my lap. I frown, calculating that $2.00 of my $10.50 beer is now running down my thigh. Do I get up to dry off in the bathroom and risk missing the opening number? Oh hell no! I lay Steve’s sweatshirt across my lap and look around to see if anybody noticed. That’s when I realize, baggy jeans are no longer the teenage style. The boys are all decked in skinny jeans! Skinny jeans! I can’t believe it. I’m surrounded by population control…poor, poor testicles. They don’t stand a chance.

I realize that I’m not fooling anybody. I look like a girl who lacks bladder control, sitting next to the out of style old guy. I decide that I’m not going to make a fool out of myself tonight. I’m going to act my age.

The lights go down and the cast appears on stage. Lea Michele and Cory Monteith start belting out the first song. Nicole, hold it in…do not do it…act your age… “I LOVE YOU PUCKERMAN!!!” It pours out of my mouth like a broken faucet. I spend the next 10 minutes straight screaming. I turn to Steve. He’s slouched down in his chair embarrassed – a look that I’m used to seeing on his face. “I can’t help it.” I tell him. “I’m a 15 year old girl trapped in this 33 year old body!” Tomorrow I will scribble, “I heart Glee” all over my school binder.

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