I guess that’s why I am often shocked into reality when I have to answer the dreaded question — how old are you? I like to think that I will forever be 28, but the harsh reality is that I am, indeed, 41-years-old. When I am forced to utter those words out loud, I almost always pause for a minute as if to say: who, me— 41?
If you are like me and sometimes forget just how many years of life you have endured, here are some reminders that you are most-definitely getting older:
You catch yourself saying things like “in my day” and “when I was your age.”
You can’t help but notice that all moms of babies and toddlers are so young – you don’t remember being that young as a new mom.
Before getting your annual dental X-rays, the dentist asks if there is any chance you may be pregnant—and you are totally flattered.
Your Google history includes things like “symptoms of a hot flash,” “how much does botox cost” and “is it true that your nose never stops growing?”
You catch a decent-looking guy checking you out in the grocery store only to realize he’s got his eyes on your teenage daughter.
The heartthrobs from your teenage years are now playing grandfathers on your kids’ favorite shows. But not that Uncle Jessie— he has still got it, doesn’t he?
You catch your reflection in passing and wonder if those are new wrinkles or a full-blown ‘stache above your upper lip.
Retirement anxiety sets in and you lose sleep over things like 401ks and 403bs.
So does the fear (and dread) of losing your own parents.
You wonder if it is possible to get a bladder transplant — because you really, really want to sleep through the night.
You just don’t have it in you to be happy for Jennifer Lopez because…well, age doesn’t cure jealousy. Come on, who looks that good at 50?
You wonder what the hell it means to slide into someone’s DM and could it possibly be as fun as it sounds?
You just can’t sleep past 6:30 a.m. Ever.
You are now that mom — the one who doesn’t know the songs on the radio or what a VSCO girl is or how the hell to open the Snap Map. You do, however, remember when Camo was cool the first time around.
You finally understand the sentiment of Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days, as you sing along and reminisce about the younger years that you will never get back.
You have finally mastered the art of living in the moment because damn, those 40 years went by way too quickly.
You finally DGAF (I know, I know what does that mean? It means: don’t give a F%&*!) what other people think about you — because after 40 or so years, you finally love yourself. And you worked damn hard to make that happen.
Chances are you are pretty darn “old” if you are still reading this post.