Nothing makes you feel more young than attending a large party where you are in the top ten of youngest people there. That was the case last night as I went with my wife to her work's Christmas party. Lynn works in a hospital as a lab tech/medical technologist and at age 32 she greatly lowers the average age among her co-workers which is much closer to 55 than 30. There were lots of short haircuts on the women, dresses that would have looked fashionable 20 years ago, and salt and pepper coifs of hair and beards on the men.
The beginning of the party was somewhat adventurous as the lights were out for almost an hour, probably the result of the day's ice storms on the electrical wiring around town. Fortunately the open bar kept going and the bartender managed to dispense drinks and spirits by candlelight. I suggested that since the DJ's couldn't play their music that we murder someone and the rest of us could spend night figuring out who did it. My suggestions were met with an curious scowl as if they thought I could be serious. Instead we ended up singing a rather uninspired version of The Twelve Days of Christmas where each table took their turn singing one part of the song. Our table had "six geese-a-laying" so I got our table to stand up and stick their butts out and squat to pantomime the laying part.
Just as the song was finishing the lights came back on. While were saved from experiencing more sing-alongs I did end up seeing something that will forever be burned as a permanent image in my brain. The woman directly behind us at the next table appeared to be in her 50's and was wearing a low cut in the back dress. When I looked at her I actually did a double take as I originally thought she facing us and had her hair in her face. But she was sitting facing away from us and the reason I originally thought she was looking at us was the fact that her loose skin formed a fold straight down the middle of her shoulder blades. It looked just like your typical cleavage of a woman wearing a low neckline. Perhaps a bit flat chested, but it was clear cleavage all the same.
I furtively pointed out the back cleavage to my wife and her friend as they both laughed heartily. I referred to her as "back cleavage woman" the rest of the night as I would bring it up repeatedly as I often try squeeze out every last laugh possible on any subject. I didn't find out later until we were leaving that "back cleavage woman" was actually Lynn's boss. Had I known that, I might've squeezed some more jokes out of the situation.
Almost as horrifying, the sight of 12 post-menopausal women on the dance floor doing the twist was quite disconcerting. Even worse was when the DJ actually started to play some hip-hop at the bequest of an Iranian-American co-worker who looked like he liked to go clubbing. Watching 50-some year old women start grinding their hips and thrusting their butts back and forth was about as unappetizing as an Old Country Buffet when you have a stomach virus. I don't know if it really irked me because I know one day I might find that sexy or worse, NOT find it sexy and be doomed as a 60 year old man with mid-fifties wife.
Despite my cruel observations, it appeared they were all having a good time. Perhaps as you age your brain loses the ability to feel shame or embarrassment. It would, after all, explain alot about my father's behaviors lately.