aging

In case you’re curious — or fear you may be old — here are a few moments that helped me realize the truth about my oldness.

Mirror Mirror on all these walls, who is the most insecure of us all? My staring was a compliment; she saw it as a criticism.

Would you really rather not get older?

Sitting now on the cusp of my 35th birthday, I find myself taking stock of my life thus far, shoving my youth under a microscope while I ask myself this one thing: Am I careening full-tilt toward my final days on this earth, or am I only just getting started here?

Life looks a lot different at 40 than it did at 25, and I have a whole new list of things to worry about. It's a very long list, and it makes me anxious on the best day, plain terrified on the worst day, and on a run-of-the-mill day, it just keeps reminding me that I'm clueless about what to think and what to do and how to be grown.

I'm proud to be where I'm at in life, even if it means spending more time buying bunion-cushioning shoe inserts and various vitamin supplements than it does staying out late with friends getting sushi and drinks. What is somewhat bizarre to me, however, is how the signs of getting older have crept up on me. Big time.

I have a completely common and certainly not surprising confession to make. Turning 30 freaked me out.

I’m not there yet. But I need to be honest—I’m closer to 40 than any other multiple of five.