Okay, I've got a glass of wine beside me. I'm ready. Let's get right into it. Getting older.
One day you're the youngest person at work and you're trying to convince your clients that you're mature and that even though you have relatively little experience, you are still competent and are perfectly able to assist them professionally.
And then, the people you work with are suddenly many years younger than you, and talk about bars they go to that you've never heard of, and have words in their vocabulary that you don't know. (They say, "Oh, I just BBM'd that person." And you nod seriously, as if you understand completely, and then say, "You....what?") And your student has to teach you how to text. How does that happen?
And when did I become my parents? You swear you're not going to make the same mistakes as your parents, and then either you do or you make other ones. And the day comes when you realize it's inevitable and maybe even good to make mistakes, but it still is a bit hard to swallow sometimes.
Sometimes aging creeps up on you and other times it hits you in the head with a hammer. Like that day a year or so ago.
My husband and I were outside in our backyard and it was a bright and sunny day. We were chatting, and all of a sudden he stopped me. "Honey," he began, "I'm going to tell you this because I love you dearly."
Uh oh. Nothing that starts that way can be good. He should have poured me a glass of wine or something first. And put a chair behind me with a blankie on it. But no, he just kept going relentlessly. "You have the most gray in your hair I have ever seen! I've never noticed it before! Look at it!"
I'd like to say I took it well. That I laughed it off, and said, "Oh, gray. That's the new brown, you know. It's on all the runways. Lucky me! Yay!" But what actually happened next...well, it wasn't pretty. I always hoped I would age gracefully (see above re: making mistakes). I ran to the mirror. Then I ran to the phone and made a hair appointment. Then I got in the car and drove straight to Tim Hortons and had a doughnut. (I couldn't remember the last time I had a doughnut.) After that I drove home and had a mojito. A double, I believe, but the details are all a bit hazy. Like I said, not pretty. I'm not completely sure, but there may have been a mention of my husband's thinning hair....I'm not proud of it, okay?
But like I said to him, I'm not one of those women who change their hair colour as often as they change their underwear. In fact, I had never coloured my hair. And I have pretty long hair. I felt that this was the end of something, that it was a huge turning point after which I would never have my normal hair colour again.
Luckily I only have to dye the roots and not my whole head...but I'll get back to you when that happens.
My next birthday is the big 40.
I have options. I could stay in bed with a pile of chocolate and cry. Or I could go out and enjoy a good party.
Here's to a celebration! Who's bringing the mojitos?