The Aging Process

In less than a month, I will be 36. It’s not a very significant age – not like 35 which requires me to now check the Age 35-to-40 box on surveys. But, at this point in my life I don’t feel like fighting my age or my increasingly rapid acceleration toward being able to claim the extra 15% discount every Wednesday at Kohl’s. I'm at peace with the few errant grey hairs, the faint appearance of lines around my eyes and the way nothing on my body seems to be in quite the same position it once was. I don’t care if I ever wear a bikini again, nor do I feel the need to capture the eye of passing men.

(Though I feel pretty confident that if I did wear a bikini now, I’d certainly capture everyone’s eye – just not quite in the way one would hope.)

Poor L is already beginning her stage of the battle, which actually begins by wanting to grow older as fast as possible. Ever since she turned five in back in October, she has been asking when she will be five-and-a-half. We keep telling her she won’t reach that milestone until around the time her brother turns three in May. However, she overheard me tell someone the other day that she was five-and-a-half. L gasped with joy, got a huge grin on her face and said, “I’m finally five-and-a-half! Yea!”

“And-a-half” is a big deal to the young. It can be a big deal to the old, too, just not in the same way. When I was 16-and-a-half and my mother would tell people that I was 17, I was thrilled. Years later at a family reunion I found myself repeatedly reminding my mother that I was not 27, but 26-and-a-half.

So even though I am now comfortably chugging across this mortal coil, I’m sure there will come a time when I turn around and start clawing my way back to the past. I bet when I’m 40, and I'm frantically dying those grey hairs back into extinction, and the "faint" lines around my eyes start resembling a country road map, and nothing on my body is in the same place it once was, then I'll start staring longingly at that bikini again.

Here are a couple of entries from a time when I was having an immense amount of trouble accepting the aging process…



The Growing Older Thing
October 9, 2000 – 26-and-a-half years old

I am not enjoying the Growing Older Thing. Not only have I recently come to the conclusion that there is now an entire generation of men that are too young for me to date, but there is also an entire generation of women whom the generations of men before during and after me desire -- and are legally allowed to pursue. I feel that I am too young to start popping out the babies -- and not old enough to handle any type of responsibility whatsoever -- yet I'm too old to get away with this mentality. And little things keep happening to me that make this situation even worse.

Perfect example of why I am not enjoying the Growing Older Thing:

Last week I entered a QT station to pay for my gasoline purchases and a pack of cigarettes. (For those of you reading this who did not know that I smoke, well, I do. I also eat poorly and drink too much. Yes, I will die early. I've accepted this.) Anyway, the cute young man behind the counter asked to see my I.D. I naturally assumed this was because I look so darn youthful, and not simply because it is the law, so I handed it over with a flirtatious smile.

This boy looks at my I.D. and says, "Yeah, I thought you looked older than me."

WHAT?! What the heck was that?! I just stared at him willing his head to pop off his immature little boy body. Then I snatched my I.D. back from the child and went on my way, careful not to bump into anything on my way out lest I fall down and break a hip or something. Thank God that Boy Scout was waiting in the parking lot to escort me back to my car.



When Nude Photos Are No Longer A Good Idea
February 20, 2001

I became another year older yesterday. Yea, me. I didn't die for another whole year.

Actually, I have handled turning 27 fairly well, I think. I had a great weekend and a great birthday. I found myself enjoying the benefits of being born. You get free stuff, people treat you just a bit more special. You even begin to feel a bit special.

But then the next day you're back to being just you again. Only, an older version of you.

Yesterday I had a friend suggest that I have someone take nude pictures of myself now while my body still looks good naked before I reach the point where I don't look good naked and I then won't have proof that I once did, indeed, look good naked. (This suggestion came from a guy friend, of course. No woman would ever encourage or condone such masochistic behavior.) And while I was appalled by this idea -- at first -- I am now considering its merits. I mean, there's some truth in there somewhere, right? Do we not owe it to ourselves to document our youth before it's so long gone we've forgotten that we were ever young in the first place?

I think this nude picture thing ranks right up there with traveling to distant lands while you're still young enough to hike across Europe, or going to that one last club that is open 'til 5am while you're still energetic enough to stay out all night and yet still go to work the next day, or making out in weird places while you're still flexible enough to maneuver around inside a public phone booth. We should do these things while we're young because we have the excuse..."Hey! What do you want from us? We're young!!"

I am teetering on the edge of being able to use this excellent excuse to get away with spontaneous, wacky behavior, and being looked upon with pity because I'm trying to use this lame excuse to get away with irresponsible, immature behavior.

And, I must say, my big fear is that I will get the nude pictures back and realize that the time to have taken those photos was actually two years ago and I have already passed the point where I could take good nude photos. Maybe I just don't need that kind of disappointment in my twilight years. And the thought of hiking across Europe makes me tired just thinking about it. And I have, on more than one occasion lately, looked at my watch and said, "My God! It's almost 11:30! I have to be at work in the morning!" And getting all romantic in a public phone booth? You know how many germs there are inside one of those things? Not to mention the fact that they are very drafty.

Hmmmm…I may have to reevaluate my list of things to do while I'm still young. Would you consider staying up 'til midnight playing Trivial Pursuit with a small group of friends, drinking wine and discussing current events a crazy celebration of youth?

Nah, I wouldn't either. But until they start making public phone booths larger, more sterile and better insulated...Trivial Pursuit it is.