What will shock us when we're older?

Our parents are shocked by rap videos. Their parents were shocked by Elvis' gyrating hips. Their parents were shocked by a glimpse of the female ankle.

What will shock us?

I really can't think of what it will be.

Image Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc. via Wikimeda Commons

Each decade, the popstars wear less. It's gotten to the point that they're now just naked. Miley Cyrus posts full on naked pictures of herself on Instagram and we're just like, "Yeah... Anyway, where did you put the pretzels?"

Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, polysexual, pansexual, asexual—we're fine with them all. Everything's great. It's all OK. Not shocking. Increasingly not even interesting.

Every other day I watch a guy shoot fireworks out of his butt on YouTube. I'm not proud of it, but I once watched a 7-minute video of a woman popping her husband's ginormous neck zit. It was only later, lying in bed that night, that it dawned on me: that wasn't a zit at all; it was a BOIL.

Anyway, you get the idea. Nothing is shocking. Not nudity. Not sexual orientation. Not gross stuff.

I absolutely love that we've reached this inclusive, 'who gives a rip' stage in human history (by "we" I mean young liberal people).

But I still have a sneaking suspicion that, when I'm 90, the "kids these days" will do something that shocks me. I'll ask my grandkids to explain it to me, and I'll tell them stories of how "In my day, you used to have to wear clothes at the supermarket." And they'll laugh at the very idea.

I regularly promise myself (with Andy as my witness) that, even as the world changes around me, I will always be open to new ideas. No matter how tempting it is, I'll resist the urge to cling to the past out of fear and nostalgia. It's the better way to be.

Still, I'm curious. What will shock us? Displaying taxidermied human relatives in our living rooms as home décor? Maybe.

Your wise ol' pal,
Margaret

P.S. Man, there's something about being 28 that makes you think about ageing like you never have before. It's bizarre. Maybe it's the wrinkles I just noticed around my eyes. Or maybe it's the fact that I don't really understand who Calvin Harris is. Whatever it is, it's causing me to cry at HSBC commercials and write blog post oaths to my future 90-year-old self.