Get off my lawn
I'm getting older.
I'll turn 27 this year, and I think its starting to show. Not just five years ago, I could hang with the best of them. I'd stay up late, wake up early, run myself into the ground just to blossom even brighter the following day. And sure, at 26, I'm not worried about carrying around a cane or anything, but aging is a real thing and its basically making itself known on a regular basis.
Last night, I went out for drinks with some old friends and one new friend. Everyone was sweet and wonderful. I chatted a bit with the new friend, a nice married girl 23 years old. We hit it off pretty well. However, she mentioned that she wanted to be "done with" having kids by age 30. Admirable! I really do think that's great. You have a lot of energy as a younger person, and you get more years with your kids. A bit of me twinged with jealousy, I'll admit.
I'm 26, almost 27. The soonest I could see myself having a kid is by the age of 30. I know many women have kids after this age; its nothing new or remarkable. But it does make me a bit conflicted.
I wonder sometimes if I have made the right choices in my life. Education, independence, work. Me me me me, me. I've never tried to share my life with another person, and I wonder if I should. I wonder if I'll even get the chance to.
Married people look at singletons and wistfully recall their single days; the singletons gaze longingly at their wedded compatriots. The grass seems greener over there, but I don't think that means the grass is dead and brown under my own feet. I think its more like...I have one kind of grass, and that's another kind of grass, and I just want the option to see if I like it better. Still, when married people look over at my grass, I bitterly just mutter "get off my lawn".
I am getting older though. I went to the dentist yesterday, and my teeth are sensitive and being worn down. "At your age," started the dentist, but then she checked my age and said, "Well, at your age, it shouldn't be THAT worn down." I got my teeth sealed for sensitivity, scrubbed and picked and polished, and given some paste that is supposed to help me rebuild enamel. Its usually given to the elderly, or to bulliemics. Being neither of those things gave me a little twinge of ennui.
I'm getting old, I thought I'd be enjoying it more, but instead my teeth are getting weaker, my womb is getting lonely, and my left hand is without any sort of tell-tale tanline. The "you're still pretty young" line is getting old, too.
I'll turn 27 this year, and I think its starting to show. Not just five years ago, I could hang with the best of them. I'd stay up late, wake up early, run myself into the ground just to blossom even brighter the following day. And sure, at 26, I'm not worried about carrying around a cane or anything, but aging is a real thing and its basically making itself known on a regular basis.
Last night, I went out for drinks with some old friends and one new friend. Everyone was sweet and wonderful. I chatted a bit with the new friend, a nice married girl 23 years old. We hit it off pretty well. However, she mentioned that she wanted to be "done with" having kids by age 30. Admirable! I really do think that's great. You have a lot of energy as a younger person, and you get more years with your kids. A bit of me twinged with jealousy, I'll admit.
I'm 26, almost 27. The soonest I could see myself having a kid is by the age of 30. I know many women have kids after this age; its nothing new or remarkable. But it does make me a bit conflicted.
I wonder sometimes if I have made the right choices in my life. Education, independence, work. Me me me me, me. I've never tried to share my life with another person, and I wonder if I should. I wonder if I'll even get the chance to.
Married people look at singletons and wistfully recall their single days; the singletons gaze longingly at their wedded compatriots. The grass seems greener over there, but I don't think that means the grass is dead and brown under my own feet. I think its more like...I have one kind of grass, and that's another kind of grass, and I just want the option to see if I like it better. Still, when married people look over at my grass, I bitterly just mutter "get off my lawn".
I am getting older though. I went to the dentist yesterday, and my teeth are sensitive and being worn down. "At your age," started the dentist, but then she checked my age and said, "Well, at your age, it shouldn't be THAT worn down." I got my teeth sealed for sensitivity, scrubbed and picked and polished, and given some paste that is supposed to help me rebuild enamel. Its usually given to the elderly, or to bulliemics. Being neither of those things gave me a little twinge of ennui.
I'm getting old, I thought I'd be enjoying it more, but instead my teeth are getting weaker, my womb is getting lonely, and my left hand is without any sort of tell-tale tanline. The "you're still pretty young" line is getting old, too.
posted by The Semi-Pro Chef at Wednesday, April 25, 2007
2 Comments:
You're not old until you have gray hairs in your bush. Keep that in mind, grandma.
Oh, come onnnnnnn! You're f*cking 26 and you think you're getting old? You have a full 2/3 of your life to live, fool, and maybe more than that if you take care of yourself.
As for me, my red meat/potato/bad driving habits are all going to do me in a lot sooner. 22 is like, 57 in Jimmie years.
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