287 Days - The 40th Post! An Interview with the Four Decades of Eve

To celebrate the fortieth post on this blog I thought it might be fun to do an interview with, well, me, but not just me… me at ten, twenty, thirty and (eve of) forty. Here’s how it all went down…

Q: Hey there, Barbara. How are you today?

10yom: It’s Barbara Ann. Fine.

20yom: I’d be better if I could afford that dress I saw in the window of Guacamole on South Street. They are SO overpriced. Maybe I’ll skip paying my rent this month and get it anyway.

30yom: I’m AWESOME! My boyfriend is the greatest, I’m going to the gym twice a day, and I’m as horny as ever!! LIFE IS AWESOME!

40yom: Meh. 

Q: Okay, great. So, let’s start with setting the scene, shall we? Describe to your (our) readers what exactly you look like. 

10yom: What’s horny mean?

20yom: I’ve got grey eyes, I’m wearing a dark purple French Connection floor length frock, fake Doc Martens, a black German cross choker on my neck, and I’m bald. Happy?

30yom: I’m tan – very tan – and very fit. I weigh 120 lbs, have long dyed-auburn/brown hair, and wear heels and designer jeans everywhere I’m able. 

40yom: Well, I’m not tan, and I’m not bald, and I’m not ten, so there’s that, but I am fit after two kids, and have long hair that I stopped dying shortly after 30yom answered that question, so needless to say, it’s graying, but not quite gray. I’m starting to get laugh lines and the skin above my eyelids is starting to fall, but overall when I look in the mirror, I’m pretty happy with what I see. 

Q: Perfect answers, thanks. So, your (our) readers want to know, did you ever think a day would come when you would be writing this blog, or, any blog whatsoever?

10yom: What’s a blog?

20yom: What the fuck is a blog?

30yom: I don’t have time to write a blurg with yoga, the gym, my two jobs and flying to Atlanta to visit my boyfriend once a month. What’s a blong, anyway? OH WAIT! Blog! BLOG… that’s like a web diary or something, right? Yeah, okay… I’ve read some of those. That’s the hot thing now. Maybe one day when I’m old and boring I will.

40yom: Yeah, I did. Well, maybe. I mean, I wanted to, and I had tried to in the past, but I guess I never thought I’d be writing this particular blog, though. Don’t get me wrong… I’m glad I am, as it’s been a fun, fun ride so far.

Q: It sure has. Before we really get into it, can I offer you a beverage? A beer, perhaps? 

10yom: Ewwww, no. Smells like Daddy.

20yom: A beer? I’m under age, you idiot. Got any wine coolers?

30yom: Um, no. Don’t ever offer me a beer. Ever. I wouldn’t be caught dead with one of those, especially in public.

40yom: While I’m enjoying getting in touch with my inner-hipster these days, I’m going to have to agree with 30yom and say, um, no. A Malbec, a Rioja, a Napa Cab or an old vine Zin will do nicely, thank you. Yes, I’ve become just that pretentious in my old age. And yes, the look you see on my face means “bite me” in several languages, none of which I speak. 

Q: This question is for the adults in the room, so 10yom, you’re going to have to cover your ears. Where is the craziest place you ever had sex (cue famous dating game scene here)?

10yom: LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA (breath) LALALALLALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA

20yom: On the bathroom sink at the Hard Rock Café in New York City last year.

30yom: The Michael’s Arts and Crafts parking lot in Buckhead. Hey, I’m 30.

40yom: What’s ‘sex’?  I kid. A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. So, I’ll tell you: The Vatican Museums. OH I KID AGAIN, I KID AGAIN!!!! I just wanted to hear the Catholics in the room all gasp at once. It was awesome. 

Q: That was Evil, but good to know. So, last question… where do you see yourself in ten years? 

10yom: I’m going to be a marine. That’s what I want to do. Or a hairdresser.

20yom: OH. MY. GOD. WHY would you make me have to think about being thirty? It’s SOOOOO OLD.

30yom: Hey! Fuck you!

20yom: Oh, sorry. Forgot you were there. Where do I see myself at thirty? Well, I want to own a clothing store in Old City called Blue Window, and every day at 1:00 pm, on the catwalk that runs down the middle of the store separating the menswear from the ladies wear, there will be a fashion show. The lights in the store will dim, and house music will start playing. It will be like a club, but it isn’t. The windows of the shop will be tinted blue and the clothing will all be either denim or fabrics that are blue in hue.

10yom: I know I’m only ten, but that’s dumb.

30yom: Well, I’m 30-year old you, and I agree with 10-year old me. Dumb.

40yom: MY TURN NOW, GIRLS. Continue this conversation in my brain sometime after the interview, okay?

30yom: Uh, HELLO? Damn, I know you’re old, but apparently you’re senile, too. It’s my turn to say where I will see myself when I’m you, remember?

40yom: Sorry. You’re right. This better be good.

30yom: (ahem) When I’m forty I expect to be living somewhere other than Philly. I will have travelled more and will be working somewhere and raising my child. Or maybe, kids. And I will have gotten my law degree.

40yom: Three out of four ain’t bad, kid. Not bad at all. OKAY… NOW it’s my turn. Where do I expect fifty-year-old me to be? Well, I expect her to be a MILF, still, of course. I expect her to have paid off her house and her credit card debt; however, I trust she will still spend money on the finer things like shoes, wine and lingerie. I think she will be a better mother, a better wife, and a better person. And I believe she will be very grateful to the old, but very good friend who helped her publish her first book.

20yom: (weeping) That was so beautiful. I’m going to start writing so that we can make that happen.

10yom: I am too.

30yom: Me too. We deserve it. 

40yom: Yes… we do.