I’m 29 years old this year.
Nope. No matter how often I repeat this to myself, it still hasn’t sunk in.
You see, I spent the better part of early 2007 reconciling myself to the fact (or at least I thought it was) that I would be turning 28 by the end of the year. And now it appears that I have in reality aged 1 year overnight! Oh the shock and horror of it all!
Funny thing is, my dear friend who pointed this out to me and made me do the match and all, also went around merrily proclaiming she would be 28 this year. There is obviously only one conclusion that can be drawn from this revelation: when you turn the ripe old age of 29, memory is the first to go. Not a surprise actually.
How could I have missed the signs? It was plain to see: all of a sudden the new recruits at work are younger than I am, the lines around my eyes are more prominent, oh, and don’t even get me started on the southward migration of my fleshy bits. Come to think of it, my weight gain probably has more to do with an age-induced slowdown of metabolism rate rather than my pleasant assumption that it was a by-product of happiness and being lovingly fed by my other half.
But the fact remains:
My mind and body are in decline!
My prime is over! (which really is extremely unfair since I don’t remember ever experiencing a ‘prime’, damnit!)
I have dwindled my youth away!
Erm…can you say drama queen?
Well at least this gives me the right to huff and puff and blow away the next person that dares to call me a ‘girl’. And yet I still feel like a kid. Being called a ‘woman’ is for grown-ups and I have such a long way to go.
29. Heh, can I even count that high anymore with my feeble brain?
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