Humor Ages

When I was a little girl, I remember someone telling me, “Beauty fades… good looks won’t last forever.”  This was probably supposed to teach me that either A.  It’s what’s on the inside that counts or B. I should invest in Botox.  But I’m still not sure why this person felt the need to lend me this truism.  I wasn’t the prettiest child.  It’s almost like they were saying, “Things will never get better for you.”

I understood what they were trying to say, though.  It’s only now that I wonder why no one ever told me that I couldn’t be funny forever, either.

I’m not sure if funny people are born or made, but I don’t think I was born funny.  When I was in preschool, I thought I was hilarious—but then, the answer to every joke I told was, “SPAGHETTI!” as in, “Why did the chicken cross the road?  …SPAGHETTI!”  By the time I was twelve, my sense of humor had developed to its current level, and still no one found me funny.  My now spaghetti-free jokes were met with crickets or the classic “ur weird” response.  … Ah, middle school.

But at some point, people started laughing at the things I said.  Instead of using the word “weird,” to describe me, they started calling me “funny” and “quirky.”  And then it occurred to me: these are the glory days.  It’s a good thing people think I'm funny now, because 20 years from now I will just be considered the most embarrassing mom EVER.  My potential future child (let’s call him Bumbury) will HATE me if I do something like dress up as Justin Bieber and serenade his friends on Halloween.  Bumbury’s friends will go home and tell their parents that they don’t want to go back to Bumbury’s house because Bumbury’s mom is on DRUGS.

But I won’t be on drugs.  I’ll just have aged, and my quirkiness will have turned back into weirdness, and my sarcastic tone will become a cold sort of cynicism that will find me wearing anti-aging cream, holding a martini, and unleashing a long stream of obscenities on Bumbury and friends. 

I have so much to look forward to. 

So the moral of the story is—and this is definitely one I’ll teach Bumbury—that you are going to be ugly one day.  And you are also probably going to stop being funny, unless you’re Betty White.  So you better have something to fall back on besides stories about the glory days when you dressed up as Justin Bieber for Halloween.  And what could that be?  SPAGHETTI!  Just kidding.  I have no idea.

Stay in school, guys.  Stay in school

<3, Biebs