old

Yesterday, I turned 34. Which means that the sunny-side of 30 is over for me. I have now officially entered those mid-30’s years…which means that 40 is looming closer than they were when I was still an early-thirty person. I’m getting old, and I’ve got the numbers to prove it.

My family always took trips to Ocean City when I was in junior high. One of the beach highlights was walking along the boardwalk and checking out the junior high girls that were also on vacation with their families. A few years after graduating from college I went back. Upon returning, however, I found that the women who were catching my eye all seemed to have babies. Mothers! With children! Instead of junior high girls, I was checking out young moms. I felt old.

Still being firmly rooted in my 20’s, however, I wasn’t too concerned. But as 30 came closer, more signs revealed that I wasn’t young anymore. At 28, I found myself teaching sixth grade. One day, I mentioned Bruce Springsteen and was met with blank stares and looks of confusion from the entire class. Not a single student knew who Bruce was. Springsteen. The Boss. The guy who was on top of the world back when I was in junior high was now just a footnote in history. An answer to a question in Trivial Pursuit the 80’s edition. I felt old.

When I turned 30, friends…in condolence…told me that ‘40 is the new 30’ and, because of this, 30 must be the new 20. But they were wrong. 30 is still 30, and is in a whole different ballpark from 20. As if to hammer this point home, no bouncer has asked me for I.D. since then.

But now at 34, it’s different. Instead of particular instances, all it takes is a quick glance in the mirror to make me feel old.