Tell me it’s not happening…

Even though I’m only nine months away from turning 30, I still feel like a youngin’.

Now I’ve always been drawn towards the more “mature” groups; instead of playing with the kids at parties or holiday events growing up, I would plop down at the adults table and listen to the political conversations.

And yet my looks never kept up.

I was carded regularly until turning 28, and when I did hand the I.D. over, it would be subject to extensive studying by any bartender, who were convinced the thing had to be fake.

From the time I was about two, I looked forward to when I would finally be viewed by others as older.

…but this is on some b.s.

This week I was driving a van full of college-aged women after we had lost our playoff game. I usually play around with the girls, give them bad times, try to make them laugh. I was ragging on one of them until she responded, “Whatever old lady.”

“Wait, what?”

“I see those gray hairs.”

Oh hell no.

I about flipped. Not about the fact that I had gray hairs, mind you. I’ve been coloring them since I was 25 (thanks a lot for that genetic plus there parents). But they were showing? That’s just great.

But then it got worse. They proceeded to go into how old they thought I was. Needless to say, it was older than I really am.

A sophomore who has known me now for over two years told me I was boring this year. I didn’t dance with them anymore. I wasn’t fun to be around. I was, and I quote, “blah.”

It’s happening. I’m getting old.

But I’m going to fight it! I’ve already colored my hair and am making plans to t.p. somebody, all the while fighting the natural urge to have a glass of wine and read a book.