“David, How do you have so much fun when you are so old?”
My heart sunk down to my toes and in the abyss I could feel the heat of anger at such an accusation.
“OLD? …. OLD!!?!! First off how old do you think I am and Second why do you think that means I have less fun?”
At this point the undergraduate intern had realized her mistake and tried to backpedal graciously by stating “Your like what? 21? 22?”
I could not deal with the conversation any longer. The following week this story was brought back up and in an attempt at defending herself she brushed the side of my head and said “Well you do have some grey hair here.”
Oooooooooh Child! – I had a talking to with her and told her a simple story that text doesn’t fully capture so I shan’t try. That was on friday evening.
Today at work, disaster struck.
After fixing my hair in the bathroom mirror I caught the light reflecting back into my eye.
“No, it couldn’t be. …. It couldn’t be. NO!”
I had seen it. No not the salt & pepper in my hair that the intern had rightly called out. Salt & pepper in my mustache. I felt an ugly, Luke Skywalker-esque yell swell within me. I held it back but I still feel it rising up.
I AM getting old(er). I had originally grown the beard to help play up my age, now it was happening all by itself.
Last week I wrote all about my childishness and adulting, but it wasn’t until today that I felt the wake-up call. I don’t have a plan yet and probably won’t write about it here because that statistically means it’s less likely to come true. But after I figure out what my next job is and where I’m living beyond mid-September, I’m going to whip myself into shape and start taking care of my body.
I’ll still have fun despite the erroneous thoughts of my friend, but I’ll work to do it more healthily for certain.