The Age of De-Consent

It's hit and miss whether any of us have our first uttered words recorded on 8 mm film (pre-video), our very. first. spoken. word. ever. on planet Earth.

They were probably:
"NO!!!" or 
"No, thank you," for those spoiled brats with boastful parents.

Me? No footage. Don't need it; I rely on memory. "No" was my script and I delivered it like a diva born to the part. No, no, no, NO!! So much drahma. 

Some next phrases were probably along the lines of, "Muuuuum, he's on my side~!!" - in reference to a sibling nudging his/her hand past the imaginary line down the middle of a car seat and me trying to whomp it like whack-a-mole.

And of course, everyone else played their part: Don't, don't, don't, don't!!
Don't eat your mashed potatoes with your doll's feet. 
Don't pet skunks.
Don't lap hot water from a bowl pretending you're a cat drinking tea. (Actually, Mum didn't know.)

There are probably a few don'ts that should have been there but weren't: 

Don't lift up your dress when you pull up your leotards. 

Don't try to hypnotize your friends in the back of the classroom when you finish your work early. 

...Your standard stuff.

But all this to-and-fro with "no-ing" is just us revving up for the go years that start at about 16:

The golden 

Age of Consent Years👼

A fresh script. Yes, yes, yes, yes!! Not to be a boastful spoiled brat, but I was a natural at that as well. 

R-rated movies? Yes. High heels and gobs of makeup? Yes! Vote? Yes! Staying out late? Driving? Yes. Sex and drinking? Heck, yes!  

These are the years we require our names/photos printed on our YES LICENSEs to get behind closed doors and wheels (and as evidence afterwards, if required).

The joy of YES. 

But like all things, yes gets just as addictive as no used to be. It's a troubling trend. Which begs the question:

ARE YOU ADDICTED TO YES?

=======================================================

The learned scholars here at Mel Labs have prepared this scientific quiz to see if you're addicted to YES. Simply answer yes or no to the following questions to see if you're totally fecked.

1. Would you mind staying late today to clean the escalator steps with a toothpick and cotton swabs?  YES / NO

2. Would you please accept this lifetime supply of free chocolate? YES / NO 

3. Can you bake six dozen organic fruit pies for the church raffle this afternoon?  YES / NO

4. Why don't you drive us to that great new coffee shop I heard about at the airport? (By the way, will my suitcase fit in your trunk?)  YES / NO

5. May I give you a lifetime voucher for free clothes from all stores of your choice? YES / NO

7. You don't mind taking care of these two dozen two-year-olds while I go to Paris, do you?  YES / NO

8. I have free airline passage to everywhere in the world for life. Will you accept this as my gift of appreciation? YES / NO 

For each question you answered yes or no to, give yourself 0 points. Add them up. Ding ding ding ding! Congratulations!! You are as officially nitwittish for having completed this quiz as I am for having written it. Besides, a quiz is always a good idea. (That airport one is true. I didn't go, but given my addiction, it was a close call.) 

=======================================================

Moving right along.

So how did we go from no to yes? 

 Is there an escape?

Menopause. Or what I like to call my Wisecracking Years, when the brain gates slam open and shut at random forcing me to realign my playbook. 

So, first things first, and it's a doozy. Yeah, big, seismic, huge. You ask:

"What's that rumbling sound?" 

Ddddoooo yyyyou fffeeeel it? 

Your license has been revoked. No guilt for NO!

Yes. It's  N O !!!

Welcome Age of De-Consent!

 .

No guilt for NO!! 

I felt the quake coming on in my late 40s when the world was hit with invisible vision, like those x-ray glasses in comic books, except these fake glasses were real and they didn't just remove clothes - they removed entire people: women over 45, specifically. Suddenly, poof. All gone. 

That's no comic book - that's Stephen King!

"Snap out of it!!" I'd scream. Happily, often they do; it helps if you dress in whatever the feck you want like a little snappy slap on their face.

So I'm back at it, almost Olympian! Back to my roots -

No, no, no, NO!!

I stamp my foot, preferably in fabulous Fluevog Jericho shaggy booties. Practise with me: "You can't make me. You're not the boss of me. I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do." I'm the girl with the curl in the middle of my forehead, when I'm good I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad I'm horrid even better. Now? I guard my yes's like little candies.

Have you got your Age of De-Consent card yet? Or maybe you never needed one...? In which case, Hallelujah!!