A few weeks ago at work some ladies were chatting in our lunchroom about weddings. One of them had just gotten engaged and they were all planplanplansqueeee! And my knee jerk reaction was to join in on the squee-ing. “Yay WEDDINGS!” But they didn’t even look over in my direction. And I sort of kept waiting for them to look up and then I could chime in on how I couldn’t wait to get married either and how when I got engaged I hoped for this ring and I wanted my wedding colors to be this and that and oh my gosh it’s going to be so awesome let me see your ring again squeeeee!
Oh wait. I walked out of the kitchen remembering that at the office I’m the lady who just had a baby. People are always surprised that I am not in my mid 30s. Possibly this is because the vision of “ye who has babies” is an older person than I am. Especially in the Bay Area. I’m choosing to believe it is not because I look older than my years, but sometimes I wonder. When I walked out of the kitchen that day I had this realization that I’m no longer that person. You know the one – early 20s, still more attached to my parents than I am to myself, my entire adult life stretched out before me. I still have my entire adult life stretched out before me. I’m only 28, so this whole “I’m so old!” bit is a little ridiculous. But I am old-er. Older than I was yesterday or last year. Older than I was when I had Gabe. Older. And I’ve always been the youngest. The youngest person in my first job after college, the second youngest person in my grad school class. Young looking, fresh faced, youthful.
Last week someone at work was looking at a picture of Kamel and I and they said, “Wow, he looks so young!” He’ll be 31 in September. My knee-jerk reaction was to wonder, “If they are surprised with how young he looks, what does that mean about how old they think I look?”
People say that we grow and grow and grow until we hit that age in our minds where we will always be forever and ever. We age in years but who we are on the inside stays the same. Maybe I am nearing that age, maybe it has just recently passed, maybe it is right now. I’m not totally sure. Maybe I’ll look back on this time and realize: that was it, that was the moment where my internal clock turned off. Maybe I will always be 28 in my head.
I keep forgetting I am 28. Sometimes I am 29. Sometimes I am 27, 26. When someone asks me how old I am most of the time it takes me a second to remember. Did you know that 1993 was 20 years ago? That there are actual people BORN in the 90s? And those people are LEGAL ADULTS? I still can’t believe it.
I found a cluster of 3 grey hairs last weekend and I thought, “No! Not yet! I’m not ready!” But I keep forgetting, nobody asked me.