Old

I hate the intern in my department. Well, not really, but sometimes I nearly do. This isn't because she's mean or snide or cruel in any way; it's because she wore gold pants today. The Intern dresses like fashionable clothing grows on trees and then falls off at her feet and begs her to put it on. Her cuteness reminds me of when I was her age and thin and wore$100 sweaters with 6 inch heels I bought on my weekely shopping excursions. Sure I was broke all the time and my feet were in a constant state of pain, but I certainly looked adorable.

The thing that most worries me even more than my petty jealousy, is that I just typed, "when I was her age." You see, she's only 25 and I'm only 29. When did I start thinking that wearing gold pants was too risque and instead began purchasing duplicates of any flattering pair of black slacks I could find. When did I start using the word slacks? At some point in the last 5 years, "old" has snuck up on me. I realize that physically 29 is not old. I do, but I think I must be more like 65 mentally. I say hip - as in, "I thought I was hip when I was in high school." Just saying hip instead of something else, anything else, qualifies me for one old point in my mental How Old Are You? quiz. I also say, "those kids" when referring to the college students I work with. Today I actually said to a student's parent, "Those kids and their texting; I just don't understand it."

When did I suddenly develop the need to begin railing about the olden days when we didn't have text messaging and we had to actually hold conversations? Since when were people that are 4 years younger than I am kids?

I just know that soon I'll start telling my niece Evie that I walked uphill both ways in the snow to school and that she should be thankful her mother doesn't give her candy for dinner. Maybe I should just invest in a cane to shake at people now.