Welp. I’ve known the day was coming for a while now. I’ve seen hints of it’s advances for the last year or so, but I didn’t know it’s arrival would hit me so hard.
At first it began with subtle annoyances. Things that used to not bother me were starting to agitate me like a scratchy tag on the inside of my sweater.
I found myself raising my eyebrows at adolescents in shorts so short that their cheeks hang out the bottom.I want to physically pull up the pants of any teenager I see walking with boxers hanging out. I’ve found myself referring to college students as “kids” and would think of any excuse not to have to be around those “kids” socially.
I started seeing the warning signs within my habits and interests months ago. In fact, it should have been clear to me when I saw a wall of body suits (a popular trend during my junior high years) at American Apparel. Since then, I’ve wasted countless hours looking up acronyms like FOMO (Fear of missing out) and TMB (Tweet me back). When I announced how much I love this new artist “Kid Cudi,” I saw my interns look at each other and roll their eyes- but I shrugged it off.
I’ve even been slightly aware of the current Nick at Nite lineup, but have chosen to believe it’s just some special Tribute to the Nineties that soon will return to it’s regularly scheduled program of I Love Lucy and Green Acres.
I started noticing the mental signs when I realized that I was no longer able to stay up for an entire movie. I used to be the type of gal who would stay up to finish “When Harry Met Sally,” even after I’d already seen it 35 times. Now I can barely stay awake for a 20 minute episode of The New Girl.
Then I noticed how brutal my hangovers have become. Even 2 years ago I was able to go out on a “school” night with the confidence that I would be able to wake up and power through my day. I had 4 beers yesterday at a 4pm happy hour, and today I feel like there is a pair of fishing weights on my eyelids.
It’s even causing me to be destructive. Yesterday afternoon, I decided to have a quick coffee but was too tired to make a pot, so I decided to heat up a cup of the cold coffee I keep in my fridge. The next thing I know, I’m pulling out a melting TUB OF BUTTER from the microwave that I mistook for a coffee mug.
As if the mental effects weren’t enough, I’m starting to see the physical changes as well.
The veins in my legs are slowly becoming more and more visible. The previous single chin hair that I painstakingly plucked out every four days has now become a cluster of five chin hairs that I remove daily. I’ve developed Melasma on my upper lip, (dark spots) which causes me to look like I have a mustache, even though I carefully remove that as well.
My eyesight is going fast. Just yesterday I mistook a kite for a Tardis. Although now that I’m thinking about it, I would really like a Tardis (Ahem my birthday is in August)
But just last week I became aware of something that I can no longer write off as some fluke… as just me having a bad day. I’m afraid that from this point on there is no turning back. For this is something that no amount of night cream or make up can fix.
That’s right. I’ve been struck by gravity lightning. I thought it was just a myth. That there was no way that gravity could hit me over night. I thought for sure it would be something that would gradually creep up on me. Not the case, people. Last week I could flick my underarm with nearly no movement as a result. Today? It’s like one of those crazy wind-dancing air-flate dancers under there.
I’m still too in shock to try to think of a plan. All I know is that my 31st birthday is quickly approaching, and it is now more clear to me than ever before…
I am old.
Which means it’s only a matter of time before I’m allowed to fart in public, right?