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So I had a terrific time at a little high school get-together at this bar I used to go to when I was 16 or 17. That was before Jennifer Levin was killed in Central Park after leaving as similar bar across town and they raised the drinking age to 21 and actually started carding people.

I found the Dublin House unchanged, right down to the same old surly bartender from the mid-’80s. Not so my friends, who (with the exception of this one guy, Kent, who clearly made a deal with the devil) all looked appropriately aged, like themselves, only a little more worn in, like a favorite pair of jeans. When I’m being kind to myself, that’s how I see my own attempt at reelin’ in the years: I am still me, only slightly faded, maybe a bit wrinkly, stretched out in some parts and somewhat frayed, but all in all, still pretty good. Without question more comfortable than I was in high school. When I’m not so circumspect, well, all you have to do is read previous postings here and you’ll see where my mind goes.

Contrast my outlook to that of this one woman I used to know, who seems to have no idea that she’s getting older and that she’s no longer the Flamin’ Amy she was as a teenager. She still dresses like a teen (one from the ’80s, when she was, in fact, a teen) and from everything she says and does, is blissfully unaware that time has passed and with it her days as an ingenue.

Some women who see her now are downright appalled by her apparent hubris, saying things like, “Doesn’t she realize she’s not what she was?” A few have taken pains to point out that she, like the rest of us, must face the fact that some body parts are better left unexposed, perhaps in a one-piece or at least an underwire tankini. The prevailing sentiment seems to be, “C’mon now, it’s time to retire the Spandex-as-outwear,” complete with ire and eye-rolling from her female peers. I have no idea what her male peers think.

I say, more power to her. While I don’t admire her outfits, I do admire her attitude and evident disregard for the passage of time. My guess is that she got it into her head in the ’80s that she was hot (which she was) and that nothing–not gravity, weight gain, sun-damaged skin or the fact that Hair Metal is not in rotation on any FM frequency–has dissuaded her of that.

Is she deluded? Perhaps. Is she hurting anyone? No. Does she feel better about herself and her body on any given day than I do? Probably. If you’re reading this, old acquaintance of mine, I say, go on with your leopard tube top! Make the world safe for all jungle cats, including cougars.