5 Wild Surprises About Aging (That Aren't On All the Other Lists)
I'm older than I used to be! But wait - is that good or bad? I think it just ... is.
Last weekend, Dave and I traveled to the holiday celebration of a side of the family I don't see very often. We had a lovely time visiting and catching up - especially chatting with my younger cousin, who is a freshman in college this year. As she described her dorm and her roommates, I nodded knowingly, thinking of my own freshman year in the dorms at Ontario, Canada's University of Guelph. That wasn't so long ago, right? I thought wistfully.
Well, actually, I realized, it was fairly long ago. I started college in 2004, a year after I graduated from high school. It's now 2022. Those memories are 18 years old, just like my cousin. Egads - right now, I'm more than twice her age!
In fact, here's a good way of illustrating how much older I am than my cousin: My very first Facebook profile picture, from 2005, is of me on a visit home from college, holding my baby cousin on my lap. It's adorable! But yikes.
Later that day, in the bathroom, I glanced up into the mirror at my hair, at that time colored red. Late-afternoon sun tumbled in through the window, and I suddenly noticed bright silver roots - subtle before, I thought, but blindingly obvious now - comfortably settled along my part! And two little lines were nestled between my eyebrows: faint, sure, but they were there, all right! Oh, my God! I thought. I'm aging!
I guess I should have seen it coming. I mean, there have been all those get-togethers every February, usually around the ninth, where my family and friends come and we all eat cake and ice cream. There have been more than three dozen of these things, now that I think of it - I probably could've interpreted those as clues. Hmm.
We all know that our 30s, 40s, and beyond are a magical time when kicking off a blanket the wrong way can tear our meniscus, and picking up an Amazon box could cause our backs to go out. We suddenly start thinking of socks as an awesome gift, to be hoped for, instead of a lame one to be dreaded. And we find ourselves with really passionate opinions on previously tedious subjects, like which brand of laundry detergent to buy. But here are a few other sudden realizations I've had I approach the ripe old age of 38.
1.) “Aging” is already happening!
Yes, the call is coming from inside the house. I guess I thought that I would be young for a number of years, ideally many of them, and that suddenly, much later in life, I would start getting older. This, of course, is nonsense. We are aging from the moment we are born! And it shows. Wear and tear on joints, sun damage on our skin, and little crow's feet come from milestones that were once celebrated as parts of growing up!
But all those years of developing fine motor skills and learning to walk and run add up to lots of pressure on joints and tendons. All of those vacations or first jobs outside in the sun add up to freckles and crepey skin - if we're lucky. And the moments of sublime laughter and taut frustration begin to etch themselves into our faces almost as soon as they happen. Yes, we're getting older with each day we greet. It's up to us to decide whether to celebrate it or bemoan it.
2.) I still have every right to continue to dress like I'm on my way to hang out on the quad before Spanish 204 starts.
One of life’s immutable truths always seemed to be that adults are supposed to wear hard pants. At least, grown-ups wore hard pants when we were kids. (Often, they wore hard shirts, too - now, in women's clothing, these are quaintly known as blouses.) But in the year of our Lord 2022, if you are, as I am, a grown-up who works from home, it's easy to keep the best parts of college going on and on: after all, endless coffee-drinking fuels productivity! And who doesn't love a hot bowl of ramen every now and then, especially when it's chilly outside and you haven't Instacarted in days?
It follows, then, that soft hoodies and sweaters, leggings, and yoga pants are obvious and totally viable wardrobe choices. They're comfortable. And right now, they're ✨athleisure!✨ Sure, I might dress up in my nicest joggers and throw on a fitted cardigan when I do have to head out. But when I go, I keep a compassionate eye out for those Other Adults, the ones wearing stiff jeans or uncomfortable khakis. They are suffering! They just haven't reached the same degree of enlightenment as I, in my aged wisdom. That's OK! They'll get there - it's not a race.
3.) The human body is capable of waking up one day and deciding it wants curly hair now, 35 years of precedent be damned!
Everything I've known is wrong now. Up is down, purple is yellow, and my hair, which has been stick-straight for three and a half decades, is curly now. What have I done to provoke this? Other women will report this kind of change after a pregnancy, but I had not been pregnant: I was simply sitting there, minding my own business, when my hair curled.
What next? Will I grow a second set of ears? Will one of my legs just randomly … come off one day? I don't know, and I'm a little scared to find out - though I must admit, the new curls are nice.
4.) On the plus side, my self-acceptance is at an all-time high!
It comes as a rude awakening to realize that this is now the stage of life where self-exams and preventative care are a must. Actually, I hit that age awhile ago, so I usually feel like I know what I'm looking for. Most often, the bath or shower is the best place to conduct a self-examination, and that's where I was last week when I felt a mass. I looked down - I couldn't quite see it. As I moved, dripping, to the mirror, I saw that it was bulging, roundish, but uneven, and dark brown in color. My heart leapt into my throat.
I had just begun to bellow, “DAAAVE!” when I felt a heady wave of panic. Trying to steady myself, I leaned back against the wall - hard. And this movement dislodged the mass. It plopped off, onto the floor.
After a few horrified seconds spent trying to make sense of what I was seeing, I picked the thing up. It was a lump of brownie. Yes, a piece of brownie I'd eaten at some point (?) had fallen down my shirt and gotten stuck first in my bra, then to my skin. It had only now come out in the bath.
Upon understanding this, my first thought was not, “You disgusting barbarian!” or even, “Have some self-respect, woman!” It was, “Brownies? Ooh. Are there more?”
Yep, at age 37, I know who I am, and I'm cool with it. Call me gross if you must, but I tell you, this kind of inner peace can't be bought. It may only be earned.
5.) Eventually, I'll look back at the age I am right now and think, “God, I was so young!”
Here's the thing about age: at any given moment, we've all never been this old before, but we'll also never be this young again. That's a tricky balance to make peace with!
In that picture up at the top, holding my cousin, I was 20 years old. Because I started college after a gap year, and in Canada, I arrived on campus as one of the few freshmen who could legally purchase alcohol. I did that cheerfully enough as a 19-year-old. But I distinctly remember spending the evening February 8, 2005, wandering around the dorm, moaning and maudlin as I nursed my cans of Alexander Keith's: “I'm going to be 20 tomorrow!” I'd wail at anyone who would listen. “That's ancient!”
Well, yes and no. I'd never been 20 before, so of course starting a new decade as a freshman in college seemed a little odd. But 20 is certainly not old, and really - “ancient?” Get out of here with that. 37 is not old. 47 is not old! And, seriously, what's wrong with being old, anyway? Being old means you've made it through some shit, and hopefully you've gotten to know yourself even better along the way.
We never quite know what we don't know. But, by this point, at least I know that! I have to think that represents some kind of progress or, dare I hope, wisdom. And if, someday, I get to take a similar picture holding my younger cousin's child, or even her grandchild, I hope to one day have the privilege of looking at it and saying to myself, “Oh, gosh - we were so young!”