May 19, 1991, oh, damn, 1996, no 200…something

So, I went blog hopping again. This time, I came across a post by a woman commenting on how all her friends were now having babies – but that it made sense because all her friends were in their mid-twenties.

Ack.

[no I didn’t save the link to include because, at the time, this wasn’t interesting…probably still isn’t]

Since then, I’ve been pondering why a gaggle of twenty-something girls who are all having babies is “normal”. Yes, some of my friends are having kids but they’re decidedly in their 30’s. The rest of us are either quietly wondering if trying to get pregnant is really a good idea or, as I suspect of some of my friends, running to check the expiry date on their contraceptive of choice.

Damn. In my mid-twenties, I was still 17. Come to think of it, I may still be 17. Maybe 22 on a good day.

Here’s the real kicker: people in their mid-twenties were born in the 80’s. Please, do not even think about reminding me that someone born in 1990 is now 15. Math like that short circuits my poor little brain – you know, the one that, when unexpectedly asked, still tries to blurt out that I’m 17 and/or 22 years old.

Is this a loose wire? A short circuit? A developmental delay or all-out stoppage? Plain old ignorance? Nix your thoughts of denial. Thirty isn’t old. I know that and I even believe that. Old-ish, for me, has now advanced to 50-something. I’m not bothered by the fact that I am aging; it usually doesn’t even occur to me. What’s bothersome is the fact that everyone else is aging.

**************************

Okay. I just re-read that and this has been one rambling bit. Good thing I’m going away for the weekend. I think I need to regroup. I’ll be relaxing on the west coast of Vancouver Island, likely with a bunch of aging hippies. That’ll put things into age-perspective like nothing else.

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