I’m starting to feel old.
I know it’s a little ridiculous because I’m twenty-four. I’m certainly not in any rush to feel older. And it’s not that I feel middle-aged by any means. But lately I have noticed several things that I think are good signs that I am not a kid any more.
For instance, a few days ago I began a sentence with, “When I was your age…” Also, “Kids these days…” And only this morning I realized that I have shoes I bought ten years ago. There are other things. I’ve started to pay attention to ads for eye cream. I have actually accomplished several of my life goals. If I work a long day my back hurts, not just my feet. I can’t get quickly and easily up and off the couch and my knees crack when I bend them past a 90-degree angle.
Most of my favorite books, songs and movies came out at least five years ago but I tend to think they’re only a year or two old. I frequently forget how old I am. I save money with no particular goal in mind. I have no interest in any of the clothes located in the “juniors” department. I’m starting to look back fondly on some parts of my childhood. I remember the last time the Dodgers won the pennant (what was it, twenty years ago?). I no longer find Jim Carrey funny.
I know my blood type. I’ve had my gallbladder removed. I have to adjust the part in my hair to hide grays. I find myself reading more of the newspaper than just the comics. My car was purchased – used, mind you – during the Clinton administration. I know exactly what kind of gas mileage it gets. Facial moisturizer is no longer optional. Cashiers no longer call me “Miss,” it’s “Ma’am” now. And most importantly: in two months, I will get a discount on auto insurance because my prefrontal cortex will have finished growing.
And so it is for these reasons, and twenty million other little ones, that I’m starting to feel a little guilty for watching “SpongeBob SquarePants” when I get home from work, and why I was looking at apartments before my dad went into the hospital with another brain tumor. I may not have aged much since I turned 18, but I’m starting to feel my age. Which is … oh, don’t tell me. It’s, um … I used to know this one …