Definition of : Best-of-Class
A product considered to be superior within a certain category of hardware or software. It does not mean absolute best overall.
All this Christmas shopping has had me on the internet researching everything from sound bar speakers to children’s scooters. Every product has a different website leading consumers to new links, new place’s to read, learn, review and agonize over every possible choice under the sun. Each site with a different perspective and yet, there it is on almost every one, the phrase “Best of Class.”
There is “Best of Class” for speakers under $200, CD Players for under $400, Boots under $500. . .It never ends. But what does the phrase mean? How should I interpret it? Does this commonly used phrase only relate to electronics and material goods? At the time, I pondered the thought for a moment but moved on to more pressing dilemma’s like whats for dinner. . .at Moe’s.
Shortly thereafter, in a totally unrelated conversation, I was brought back to the very same train of thought, except that consumer products were not the topic at hand. One fun night out, I was hanging with one of my best girl friends at a local restaurant bar, when we made friends with two middle-aged, mostly married men. (That is a topic for an entirely different blog.) At some point during the night, and after at least a bottle of wine between us, one of the men declared that something drastic happens to ALL women at the age 34. Wait, what was he saying to me? Was something supposed to be happening to me that I have been blissfully unaware of? Have I been going aimlessly through these last 6 months without knowing that a train wreck was around the next bend? This can not be true. My head was spinning already trying to come back with a solid rebuttal.
Apparently, according to “Subject A” and confirmed by “Subject B” women lose almost all self-confidence in the looks department at the age of 34. They become impossible to live with, marriages become rocky and all things basically go way south from this age benchmark. I can still feel the heat in my cheeks. I counter argue that I feel great, better than I did at 28 for sure. Prettier. More self-confident. . .of course. Best of Class.
I am sure that he did not believe me. I do not care.
No I am not 24 anymore, as if you could pay me to go back. If that was the case I would be endlessly searching for love in all the wrong places instead of nestled up with The Bug, Coop and sweet Scotty. I would live in an almost empty apartment, with stolen cable given to me by my neighbor, who I am sure just felt bad for me. I would be driving my old Honda Accord, that despite ever having one tune up or any gas, always started but was completely illegal to drive. I would live paycheck to paycheck, work for bosses that I hate, in a career that would never take me anywhere.
I would be lying to tell you that my yearly maintence level of daily preservation has not drastically gone up. I picture the Glamour Magazine article on “What She Spends” and I shutter. I am in the middle-upper category I think. . . I used to be in the lowest. I run more, drink less and try harder. I have tricks up my sleeve I may or may not ever share with you. I own a mirror and I try to remember to look in it. . .from behind. Most days I come to the conclusion that what is staring back at me is not so bad.
The last ten years have brought me to a place I never imagined for myself. I have confidence in my future and peace with my past. I look forward to the next stage in life but try to cherish the moments of today. All of the fine lines, gray hair and muffin tops in the world are worth it to be here, at the age of 34 and as far as I can tell, Best of Class.
And that’s not a bad thing to be.