Thursday, January 7, 2010

But I'm only 15 in Genesis years

One of the greatest things about this B90D thing is that Walker has agreed to do it with me. Yippee!! Which has lead to fun discussion about the bible. You know, the way we used to discuss the bible together, all deep and smart and stuff - approximately four children ago.

Today we met for lunch (a rare, rare treat) and compared our thoughts about Abraham and Sarah. Walker said, "What always amazes me about Sarah is how hot she was. Even when she was OLD, she was so beautiful that Abraham had to lie about her being his sister. And she was old. Really old. I'll never understand that."

Now, in case you aren't familiar with the story, Abe and Sarah were technically half-siblings. But twice Abe told Sarah to pretend they weren't married because he was afraid that other men would say, "Man, I'd kill for a date with Sarah," and then, literally, kill for a date with Sarah.

The first time that happened, Sarah was 65.
The second time it happened, she was 90.
Ninety. Nine-oh. And hot. Taking the crown in every Mrs. Geriatric Canaan pageant she entered.
(Some said she didn't look a day over 89.)

I shared with him my theory on Sarah's ageless beauty, which goes like this:

I read once that the reason that people in the very beginning lived to be 969 like Methuselah or 950 like Noah is because disease and cell mutations and the like had not had time to profligate to the point that their lives were shortened. So one would assume that, at the age of 100, they certainly wouldn't look like anything like a 100 year old person looks now. They would not be showing the signs of decay and age at anywhere near the rate that we do.

Since Sarah lived to be 127 years old, when she was 65, she was only halfway through her life. So, in "Genesis years" she was only around 40. At 90, she was around 50. Still a cougar, sure. But there are many beautiful 50 year old women, and I know tons of hot 40 year olds.

At which point my husband said, "Much like yourself."

At which point I winked at him and played footsies under the table.

After our lunch I kissed my husband goodbye and as he returned to the factory, I drove to a resale shop. There used to be a men's consignment shop near me where I would take Walker's old clothes to earn a little money, but it went under. Recently I saw Plato's Closet, and thought, ah, maybe I can take them there now.

Plato's Closet, despite its name, is for youngsters. Very hip, trendy clothes. But, most of Walker's clothes are either Banana Republic or Gap, and twenty year olds wear those, so they should want his, right?

I gathered up his trendy-enough clothes, and threw in several of mine as well. Mostly from the Gap, Banana or Old Navy. Some still with tags on. Sure, they were a couple years old, but hey. I'm still cool. I don't dress that differently from a twenty year old, right? A top is a top, right?

I handed the big crate of clothes to Cool Young Bepierced Guy behind the counter.

As I waited for CYBG to go through our cool-enough clothes, I looked around myself. They will either give you cash or store credit. Maybe I could find some t-shirts for myself. A t-shirt is a t-shirt, right?

I did start to feel a little old when thoughts like, "I'm sorry, there is no way I would pay $10 for a used shirt, Abercrombie or not" and "I guess Hollister must be something cool" and "Oh my word, those pumps would kill my feet!" The main sign I was out of my element was when I started flipping through the skirt rack -- only to realize that it was the tube top rack. Oh.

Soon - sooner than I expected - CYBG called my name. I walked up to him expectantly, wondering how much money I was about to get.

"Actually," he said, "we couldn't accept any of your clothes. The styles were either kinda out of date or for our inventory."


"Thanks," I squeaked, as I lugged my pile of too-mature clothes back to

As I slunk out of the parking lot, I told myself, it's okay, I'm sure they wouldn't have wanted any of Sarah's clothes either.

And Sarah was still hot.


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