Getting Old

Despite my best efforts, I am very sad to report that I am, in fact, aging. I slop numerous creams and potions onto my face and body several times a day, avoid the sun like a vampire, and take vitamins religiously, and yet the tiny lines and grey hairs penetrate my best defenses and rear their ugly heads on my ugly head. Thank God for makeup and hair dye. I'll have to use more of thee.

Another way in which it has become increasingly apparent to me that I am no longer on the good end of "youth" is in my knee-jerk responses to things people say or do. I have developed a maternal concern toward everyone in my friend and family extended network, often urging them to wear a coat, apply sun screen, or stand farther away from the subway platform, even if they have not specifically sought my advice on these matters.

Also, my priorities have shifted from the mundane and superficial musings of my college days to (gasp) political and cultural awareness. For an example, note the following conversation I had today, via text message, with my 20-year-old cousin, who is currently a apple-cheeked, whipper-snapper college student:

20-YEAR-OLD: My roomate is so mad at me because I went to a different house party last night.
ME: That is a stupid thing for her to be mad about. Tell her to direct her unfounded anger at North Korea for test launching nuclear misiles!
20-YEAR-OLD: She is too stupid to know what that means.

What? I thought that was a completely good "burn" for one roomate to use against another who has foolishly misdirected her energy. I guess not so much. Alas, I can no longer jive with the young folk or get jiggy with the cool dudes. I am 29. I am lawyer. Now, to get to work on that time machine.....