Thursday, June 20, 2013

I still remember when thirty was old.

Technically, "old" to me means about 75 or 80 years old, but I blame that on having parents who are medical professionals and were constantly saying that someone who died at 65 was young. And honestly, I think "old" is more of a state of mind than anything else. I certainly plan on being spastic when I'm 85 and have already told Three that I would like to die skydiving thankyouverymuch.

At the very end of this year, I turn thirty, which is as much of a surprise to me as it is to anyone who knows me. It's not like I wish for death, but I've had several scrapes that make me wonder if God was trying to fix a mistake but then decided, "Meh, what harm can she really do?" But it's not like we live in biblical times, where turning thirty meant you were either very good at steering clear of danger or you were an asshole who sent people to fight your battles. However, I am starting to wonder about people that are younger than me, because this exchange actually happened.

Me: Oh, everyone looks shitty in their driver's license photos. It's like a rule. Look at mine.
Cashier at Gas Station: Oh, my GAWD. You look GREAT for your age.
Me: (blink blink) ... I don't know if I should feel old now or not.

The cashier was twenty-two, which is a whole seven years younger than me, and yes, I know she was trying to compliment me, but I couldn't stop laughing. Even now, I'm chuckling at the memory. It was really one of those moments where you're not really sure how you're supposed to react. I wasn't offended in any way, although another cashier seemed ready to roast her for her comment. Once I left the gas station, I had to call up my mother to relay the story because it was that funny to me, and she heartily welcomed me into the fogey club.

Thanks, Mom?
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