My darling delightful piece-of-angel-food-cake daughter has taken to calling her father and I "the old man and the old lady". As in "Hurry up old man" and "the mean old lady won't let me get any toys". Then she laughs her little arse off. Now. I get indignant, insisting that 34 was NOT old by any means.
Then my darling sweet-as-a-cupcake husband corrected me. It seems that I am 35. THIRTY FIVE. First of all, who does he think he is keeping track like that? And second of all, I wish people would stop reminding me of my age thank you. I don't believe there is such a thing as "old". Age shouldn't be a barrier to anything you want to do. True, sometimes there are physical barriers that happen to be more likely after a certain amount of mileage, but if you CAN do something you should do it, and happily so regardless of what the calendar says.
Having said that, why insist that it is no big deal that I am 35 while making such a big deal making sure I know it? That doesn't make sense. Don't tease me about it then say it shouldn't matter to me, because obviously it should if one feels the need to constantly point it out. No, I don't think I am missing out on opportunities, it's just that I guess I always picture myself at being a certain age and stage and it shocks me a bit when that crashes into the reality.
DD is very good at picking up on what issues give me the most angst. She tells me I have a huge behind. She calls me old. She tells me my clothes are ugly. She insists my shirts smell like pickles, that I have coffee breath, and my hair smells like barf. All the while laughing fit to bust. Even if we don't find her funny, she sure thinks herself quite an amusement. Sigh. They grow so fast.