Dear Diary
I am getting old pretty fast these days.
I never stopped and looked at the calendar before. I never cared for my age and growing up. I never wanted to grow up. I never wanted to see my loved ones get old and frail and perish into ‘the other side of forever’.
I never thought I’d get old. I never thought…
Anyhow, the time is flowing, running, rushing, kicking, killing. I am slowing, whinging, screaming, complaining and even crying.
It comes slowly. It comes unexpectedly. It starts very innocently. It is the day when your knee goes one way even though your whole body is going the other way… It’s not even that (things like that used to happen to me all the time. Thanks to the youth of ice-skating). It is getting over the pain. It takes days now.
It’s the slogans you start to notice and it feels like they are all around you. They are watching you. ‘revolution of aging’, ‘the art of aging’, ‘new young age’. What the…
On top of everything else, you begin to notice how young actors are and how ridiculously young are the lawyers in your office… only to realise that they are quite adults and it is you who sees things differently.
And when you read something like ‘middle aged woman of around 40’ and it makes you angry and you start to laugh at the audacity of youth you look at your mum and thank the heavens that there is still a place on earth where you are always a little girl and will never age while your parents are around.
And when you say ‘I am old’ at home you’d get a smack from your always 22 y.o. mum for reminding a woman of her age (reminding her of her age that is). I keep doing that just to be reminded that I can still me smacked and told off. I am still a child, even though I am a mum of a 16 y.o. lady.
When my knee went one way and I went another I kept going…