Are you confused by your stage of life? Feel young and vibrant, and yet a day-spa worker recently called your skin “crêpey”? It’d be great finally to have confirmation that you’re no longer a vital part of society—but how? Throw yourself a middle-age-reveal party!
Here’s a step-by-step guide:
Decide on a Theme
Most middle-age-reveal parties share a simple theme: gray. Think gray cocktails, gray plastic cups, gray napkins, and gray party games, such as Pin the Sad Gray Tail on the Sad Gray Donkey Who Looks Ridiculous in Floral Prints. If gray’s not your color, simply build a theme around something that you love to do—for example, cry-eating while watching “Murder, She Wrote.”
Set the Date
Send invitations to your reveal four to six weeks in advance. Cute invitations can be found online, through Etsy and Paperless Post. If you buy them at a stationery store in the mall, immediately cancel the party: it’s already been revealed that you’re an old bitch.
Plan a Welcome Game for Guests
Kick things off by asking guests to guess your age! If they guess lower than it actually is, hand them a prize like a yummy fruit skewer. If they guess higher, hand them a prize like your middle finger and a now-strained relationship.
Pick a Dramatic Way to Reveal Whether You’re Middle-Aged
The fun of this event is keeping everyone—including yourself!—in suspense until it’s time for the grand reveal (much like your period when it disappears for two months and then rages on back during your anniversary beach vacation). Some awesome ways to find out if you’re middle-aged at a party—rather than at a wine bar, when a graduate student with a man bun calls you “ma’am”—include:
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Knee Test: Squat down to grab something out of a low cabinet, like a colander or a cake pan. If you can stand back up without assistance, you are not in middle age. But, if you slowly tip over onto your side while hissing “Fuckkkkkk this life,” you are!
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The Scroll: While guests watch, log on to a Web site that requires you to enter the year in which you were born via a drop-down menu. Now see how long it takes you to scroll down far enough to find that year. Two minutes? Three? Do you see 1929 at the bottom of the list? Then—ding-ding-ding! Hello, oldie.
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Menu-Reading: Have a party guest hand you a restaurant menu. Without using glasses, a flashlight app, candlelight, or a child’s help, try to read at least three items. If you make it to the salads section without throwing the menu across the room and shrieking, “What the hell! Is this a restaurant for mice?”—congratulations! You are still considered attractive by some.
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Piñata Time!: Hang up a man-shaped piñata, then grab a bat. If you just gently knock the piñata around a few times, you are not in middle age. But if you whack the shit out of that crêpe-paper motherfucker like it just voted to take away your reproductive rights, all while screaming, “DEATH TO THE PATRIARCHY! EAT PAIN, DIPSHIT!,” your A.A.R.P. card is already in the mail. You’ll also need some Motrin for your sore biceps.
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Box o’ Fucks: Two boxes labelled “FUCKS” are placed on a table. You must choose one, and only one, to open. If the box you choose is full of fucks, you are not in middle age. Go buy a crop top on Instagram, kid. But if you open a box and there are no fucks inside—if there are no fucks left to give and you couldn’t find a fuck even if you used a fucking fuck detector—guess what? You’re middle-aged, baby. And that means the party’s now over. Send your guests home. It’s time to cry-eat and watch “Murder, She Wrote.”
