"miss, how old are you?"
pause. silence. crickets chirping....
okay, i've had more than a month to get use to the sound of it, but it's kinda like those too-tight jeans that continue to ride up your crotch with each step...it just doesn't fit. twenty-eight is T-2 years until the Big 3-0 and it’s hard to believe that time has outpaced my girlhood vision of what my life would look like at this age. not only does twenty-eight just not feel right, but i’m unwilling to relinquish my younger years when i've held Adulthood and all its responsibilities at an arm’s length, peering at it in the faraway distance. sometimes, there are still days when college feels as if it was just yesterday and that a clock is just a clock and not a biological instrument counting down the precious moments left to achieve all those critical “milestones” i’ve barely yet accumulated. and though i know there's no right way to feel or be at any age, and that everything will fall into its rightful place sooner or later, isn’t it easier to prolong youth rather than step into the future? there's still plenty of time, right? RIGHT? plenty of time to find a job, find a man, and find myself?!?!
that’s the problem with age—it’s not just a number, but a symbol of time elapsed, reminding me that no matter how much i try, my younger carefree days are quickly fading, fit or no fit. and with this fact comes the realization that i’m still a hundred miles away from where i thought i’d be at this point. seek out my younger self, and she would swear to you that by twenty-eight, i'd surely be married (nope, not even a boyfriend in sight), working a great job (no again, back to school) , and possibly pregnant (oh Lordy, definitely no, not even close to ready). it is the burden of these unfulfilled expectations that make putting on a new age so difficult. do years of un-checked off milestones equate to a life un-lived? i hope the answer is no. that just fits better.