Still a young punk living in a dad bod

Something has come to light lately and I seem to be at a turning point.

Those dreaded comments are flowing my way “you’re getting old Tony” and I am not too sure if I like it.

I recently travelled to Paris and I guess a sign of my “old man” age was the fact I embraced a grandpa hat and enjoyed Monet’s Garden and river cruises instead of a Contiki-like bender across Europe in the same timeframe.

I feel like I am in the middle of two generations. I recently said goodbye to a mortgage and started renting again, I sold a new car for an old one and I am loving it.

I feel 21 again, financially anyway. Email alerts for holiday specials excite me and I feel like I’m free to do as I please to some extent.

Then the adult kicks into gear. I get ready for work and drop my son to school.

Luckily my age means liking and sharing dad jokes is acceptable, I wore my slippers at work yesterday and it was not frowned upon, and having an early night is considered a good thing not a cop out or sign of weakness.

The young part of me belly-surfed on a piece of plywood last week and I loved it.

Young me danced carefree in Bali this year. Young me still likes punk rock, and skates occasionally although now it is for the mental health benefits. Young me loves getting waves over secluded reefs and laughs at old me when he wears funny hats and slippers to work. Young me still rocks!

A group of aquarobics participants once lectured me on breaking my arm skating. When copping the whole “grow up, you are too old” lecture, a 90-year-old Doreen simply said “don’t listen to them, the day you stop doing what you enjoy is the day you die”. I took her advice.

The old quote of “We don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing” rings true. So revisit an old hobby, dust off that skateboard, get that old surfboard wet this weekend and revisit your youth; the young you will shine and make the older you a better person for it.