The Elderly

We have this temp working in our office right now. She is fresh out of college and sweet and nice and all the things I think I might have been once. Well, maybe not. But I was fresh out of college once, and not that long ago. Anyway we were sitting around eating lunch one day and she kept making comments about age. She said them in a way that made me think she thought I was old. Things like, "she is younger, closer to my age," etc. I got the distinct feeling that she didn't realize we were probably no more than a year apart in age. So I asked her, "How old do you think I am?" And she looked at me with innocent doe eyes and I thought for a moment she was going to say a number that began with 3. My stomach dropped. My lunch was coming up. "How old do you think I am?" I repeated, my voice getting more shrill, the crease between my eyebrows deepening. "I don't know," she said anxiously, "28?"

Well it wasn't 30 something, but it wasn't my actual age either. And I couldn't help but wonder if work actually speeds up the aging process. The sweet girl was kind enough to say, "Your face looks young, but you act older." But, damage done. It's not that I mind much if she thinks I'm older than I am. Scratch that. It's just that I can't believe I'm one of those people. You know who I mean. Remember when you were in school and anyone who was out of school and working was just sort of...faceless? I remember just lumping them all together. The people who wore khaki pants and sensible shoes. The people who went through the Starbucks drive-thru instead of sitting inside and enjoying their coffee. The people who had short haircuts. They were a separate kind. A people foreign to me and my carefree days of a few hours in class, a few pages of notes, mostly friends. I can't believe I've joined them. Can't believe the only time I go out is for a happy hour, still clad in my work clothes. I can't bring myself to wear khaki but I am always wearing sensible shoes. I have this flower barrette my dearest friend once gave me and I've been nervous to wear it to work because it seems just 'too flashy.' Why does this happen to us? I never cared about blending in just two years ago. Does something in us break or settle? Do we simply calm down?

In any case, I'm no 28. And I plan to avoid 28 for at least a few more years by never wearing pants like this: