Yuppification

This morning, while brewing my morning cup of coffee (iced, with creamer and sugar) on my Keurig, it hit me that my Keurig, no matter how much I love it, is the final nail in the coffin of my youth.

I had always saw myself as outside "the crowd". I did my own thing. I wore flares and corduroy blazers when other girls wore straight-legs and hoodies. I had a pixie cut when long and straight was in. I listened to music genres when I felt like it - and not when it was the cool thing to do. I didn't go out of my way to be different (that is just as bad as being one of the drones, really) - I just WAS.

But then I got cranky. What is that horrible noise that is playing on the radio today? And the clothes in stores? It looks like the eighties woke up and threw up everywhere. I find myself clutching my old music in terror. Listening to softer rock (GASP) and shopping at the Gap (HORROR).

I bought a home in the suburbs. Have a little poodle-mix fru-fru dog. I drink iced coffee made in my high-end Keurig on my way to work each morning, wearing clean-cut clothes from the Gap and Banana Republic. My wide-leg jeans and flannel have found new homes through the good-will.

I worry to my fiancé that we are becoming Yuppies.

Me: We can't be TOTAL Yuppies - we own a record player. No true Yuppies would ever play a record.

Fiancé: No, that record player is something a Yuppie would buy in an attempt to prove they aren't a Yuppie, but fail.

Me: Grrr.

Is being a Yuppie so bad? Doesn't it just mean that I am a young professional? Does it mean that I am doing well in today's world, despite the economy and all the things that could potentially go wrong? Or is it more? Does it mean that I've let go of my ability to be young and individualistic? Do I now follow the crowd? Have I been socialized?

Which came first, though - the Yuppification or the success? Don't you have to start with the dressing nicer to get that first job? Then you start, bit by bit, to be yuppier and yuppier to do better and better until suddenly you've crossed the line of no return. Then suddenly you buy that house in the suburbs. Have the poodle-mix fru-fru dog. And stand in front of your Keurig one morning realizing that you've put the final nail in the coffin of your youth.