Tell Tale Signs You've Jumped the Shark

Hey Pill Fans,

I'm feeling old today - don't know why. But it could be the bags that have permanently entrenched themselves under my eyes. Or that I don't understand anything they're talking about in Vogue magazine anymore. Or that when I tried to jump on the trampoline with my niece yesterday I came dangerously close to wetting my pants. In any case, jumping the shark really stinks. Here is an article I wrote recently with more tell-tale signs.

Tell Tale Signs that You’ve Jumped the Shark

By Sue Tabb

In the world of television, “jumping the shark” is the point at which a show’s plot or characters become so absurd that it is painfully clear the series has passed its prime and can only move down in the ratings. I believe the colloquialism originates from an episode of “Happy Days” in which Fonzie – in his swim trunks and leather jacket – literally jumps a shark while waterskiing in Hollywood. The fact that I know this is sort of frightening but just bear with me.


My point is simply that I’ve jumped the shark. I’ve become a ridiculous caricature of my former self. I finally understand the desperation of those sitcom writers who were anxiously trying to stay on top despite the odds. But the downward spiral is bound to happen, even when there is no logical explanation. Just consider the Fresh Prince of Bel -Air, which aired six seasons compared to a whopping 15 seasons for E.R. Where is the justice?

So we all jump the shark at some time or another and it comes down to acceptance. I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am older, lamer and becoming an embarrassment to myself and those who admit they know me. Here are a few reasons why:

• My idea of a fun night is watching “House Hunters” on HGTV and having a glass of wine. My idea of a wild night is watching “House Hunters International” and having two glasses of wine.

• I am uncomfortable around the mural of the half-naked boy in Abercrombie & Fitch.

• I am excited when I buy a new set of high thread-count sheets at Marshalls. I am ecstatic when I find a matching comforter.

• My idea of a good shopping experience is finding a bra that fits at Victoria’s Secret. My idea of a great shopping experience is driving past the mall – braless – on my way to get a pedicure.

• I actually consider a shoe’s comfort before making the purchase.

• When traveling, my personal bag - with its hair products, wrinkle creams, and medications - weighs more than my suitcase and could actually double as an anchor for a cruise ship.

• I have not been whistled at by a construction worker in over a decade.

• My kids refer to my childhood as “back in those days.”

• I own a “body shaper” (a more polite word for girdle) that is a must-have undergarment when there is no Lycra in the fabric covering my belly.

• I don’t know the difference between an iPhone and an iTouch…and I can still sleep at night. I simply close my iLids.

• A good party is when guests go home by 10 p.m. and you score a couple of decent bottles of wine. A good party “back in the day” was measured by how many times the cops showed up at the door.

• There are no new skeletons in my closet.

See what I mean? Lame. Go ahead and think it. It won’t bother me because I’ve already moved past the denial phase. The problem is that once you get to this stage, you have absolutely no shame whatsoever. I might as well start wearing sandals with gym socks.

I think there is a certain day that we all turn. Remember when your kids were smiling, darling babies and then one day, right around when they turn two, you go in to find a toddler with attitude jumping out of his crib? There is a definite and distinct and most times quite unpleasant turning point. I think for adults it’s somewhere around the time you discover you use to babysit your kids’ first grade teacher.

Shows jump the shark. Kids jump the shark. Grown-ups jump the shark. It’s just the circle of life.

So grab your water skis and a nice leather jacket and get ready to leap, Fonzie.