Over the years, I keep hearing people telling me, “You look younger for your age”. Not for an ego boost, but I like making people guess my age whenever they ask me how old I am and they always answer wrong. I use to hate the fact that people think I am much younger because in 2005, I can’t get a job because I look like a freshman in High School. FYI, in 2005, I was already in College and smoked my first pot.
In 4 days, I will be another year older. I never liked birthdays. Especially mine. At a young age I’ve already decided that no day should be celebrated to make you feel you’re more important than everybody else around you. Your birthday is on January 16th? Well guess what?! It’s the same for thousands of other people. I make it sound like I’m anti-birthdays. I’m not. I just don’t care for them. It’s like this: I like eating birthday cake, but I don’t like getting one on my birthday.
I still get the “you look younger for your age” treatment, which does not bother me as much as it used to. I still have doubts and fears about aging but not particularly in the looks department (I’ve already accepted my faith of having saggy boobs by 40). Right now, as I type this, I am 27. And I swear, a lady I’ve been working now for two years just told me (I mean not right now at this moment but some months ago) that she thought I was 18 years old. 18 freaking years old! We’ve been working together for 2 years! That means, when I first started working here she thought I was 16. I don’t know what to feel about that. I laughed because of what an idiot she is and how different my aging process is on the outside from the inside.
Sure, I still look like a College newbie but my arthritis would tell you otherwise. I am 27 and I have arthritis.
Sure, I may not have crows feet, yet, but my 27 year old body can’t handle regular milk.
I forget things. I whine a lot. I am impatient. These are some of the many things that I personally associate with my aging.
People often think that getting older should equal to maturity. Excuse me but this is bullshit. Adults pretend. That’s what makes an adult a good adult. You get to live the first 10 to 15 years of your life completely innocent. You we’re allowed to be irresponsible and immature and whine about acne. But as an adult, you’re no longer allowed to do that.
I was lucky enough to transition early in life. My parents trusted me enough to be on my own at 17. In the Philippines this is very very unlikely. Some people don’t get to leave their family home until they’re married and even then, parents are still controlling.
Not my parents. They believed in experience as the great educator. So much in fact, that they left me in my own devices as early as nine. I don’t especially think that I am the most mature person I know but I know enough to know what hardship is and what pain means and what consequences are and what it means to be unemployed and have zero cash. I was a teenager and I already gave up on my ambitions because I was made to believe by the economy that I have zero chances of making them come true. It was my fault, I know.
I had no specific intention on what to say when I started typing this post. All I know is that I am getting older and I have a sharp pain in my right knee. That I still look like a trapper keeper carrying girl but wears blazers. Also, expect a series of post that is me reminiscing on transitional experiences.
Happy Birthday to Me. In 4 days.