I’m getting older. It’s not that I’m afraid of dying; that I’m ready for the dirt nap; or that I’m on the Grim Reaper’s paper route. I just turned 28 1/2 (this may give you some idea as to how old I am). I say 28 1/2 because unlike everyone else my age, I still side with 3rd graders in seeing the merit of mentioning the fraction.
I don’t have a problem with my age, being in my mid-20s. Yes, if 20 & 29 are brackets for the 20s–28 1/2 plunks me right there in the mid-20s. WHAT? It’s all in how you look at it. Granted, I’m 29 1/2 in China. But I’m not in China.
I grew up in a simpler day–the 70’s. It was a time when your entire record collection came off the back of a Honeycombs box. When a CD was a certificate of deposit. When “Ice T” was a drink. When “fly” was something you used to zip up your pants! Phrases like “the kids these days” and “I remember when” have crept into my vocabulary. Don’t you see, ladies and germs, I’m beginning to sound like an ancient Catskills comic!!!
For the”twentyeightandahalfsomething” generation of males, the realization came slowly. I’m not being sexist, it’s just that I’ve never been a woman before. Unlike Pete Townsend, I have no clue what it’s like to be a woman! I guess I’m a politically incorrect-factory defect.