There’s another one around the corner. There ought to be some way of suing a year for having flown by too fast with provision for additional petitions against one of the lousiest 12 months ever.
With another birthday creeping up to bean me one full in the face when I most expect it, I’ve decided that us ageing mortals really ought to come up with an anti-ageing strategy that works. Although I’ve been blessed (or cursed, as I see it presently) with looking at least a decade younger than I really am, I do think there will be probable cause for concern a decade down the line.
The best I’ve come up with is the “Forever 25” - you know, the one where I insist I am 25 for as long as I can - until someone either calls my bluff by digging up my passport or my dentures fall out while I’m laughing raucously at the “in” sitcom that is a favourite with the youngsters of the day.
Besides that, I’ve already begun fibbing and fudging my age in places where I know I will not get caught. Like when a young lass walked up to me at a grocery store recently and asked me to fill out some forms for a free health drink or something like that. I just went ahead and knocked a couple of years off my life. Just like that. Without batting an eyelid. Of course, that innate guilty conscience kicked in right away, for, as I walked way, I am quite certain a bunch of brinjals and a cheeky bottle gourd called me names that I’d blush to repeat. Stool pigeons.
As B-C and I mourned over the merciless ticking away of time last night, we decided that for the next X number of years we’re going to keep celebrating our 24th and 26th birthdays, respectively. And we’ll do that till our very last breath or until we bust a hip while attempting the 2030 equivalent of the Macarena mania.
Of course, the only one who is super thrilled about her age is KO. Naturally, she would choose to opt to be happy about something just so she could appear cooler than the rest of us. Either that or she simply enjoys being able to look down her honker at us humble souls and scoff at “these youngsters” or spout geriatric mumbo-jumbo about “30s being the new 20s”. Honestly, KO? It’s easy to see wisdom doesn’t automatically come with age!
Oh, and that would be another point against the blasted ageing phenomenon.