New Tales From Old Navy: And I Do Mean Old

I realize that I'm now well into my 30s. My body reminds me of this fact every time I sit down after working a shift at the store. Mentally, there's a part of me that fails to grasp that concept.

More often than not, I still feel like I'm in my early 20s. Even if I look in the mirror and see that I've aged 10 years, it's hard to accept. I guess that's good, though. 'Cause they say you're as young as you feel. I feel young... -ish...

I was happy that I got hired to work at Old Navy. Most of that happiness stemmed from the fact that I would be receiving an extra paycheck every now and again. But I knew there would be other benefits. At least, I assumed there would be. And I don't just mean the discount.

Being in close proximity to two large universities, I assumed there would be a great number of attractive women walking through those doors. Yeah, yeah... "What a sexist thing to..." Shut your faces! I'm young and single. Sue me for noticing attractive members of the opposite sex.

It's not that my assumption was completely wrong. I just noticed a strange phenomenon when I worked last Saturday. When I looked around the store, there wasn't a single woman under the age of 60. This went on for a few hours. Not that there aren't beautiful 60 plus women out there. Look at Jane Seymour. But Jane Seymour did not come into the store that day.

So where were all the young shoppers last weekend? Better things to do? Better places to be? I'm working again this Saturday. Feel free to make an appearance. I promise not to stare. At least, not blatantly.