Chicken Soup for the Young and Perky Soul

I'm not normally obsessed with my age or being old or young or whatever. However, during the last six months I've begun feeling very middle-agey. It didn't help at all when I went to Brian's 20-year high school reunion. Everyone there looked old. Old I tell you. And they're just a few measly years older than me.

We went to see INXS last month, and when the bartender at the Wang Center carded me, I didn't have my I.D. She decided to let me get my beers anyway. "You just better be 21," she said.

"I'm 37, I have three kids," I told her, and we both laughed. I'm old enough to have a child who's old enough to buy a beer.

When my mother-in-law came over last week she brought me a gift. At first I was all, "Oh, Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul, cool." Then I noticed the script at the bottom: "at Midlife." I looked at her. "Oh, for midlife, thanks A LOT!"

"You're welcome," she smiled, and I realized that she was dead serious and, duh, "mid-life" totally applies to me and I should just accept it right now.

For the last five months I've been thinking I'm 37. But last night I realized I'm not, I'm 36. I found a year!

Thirty-six sounds much perkier than 37, doesn't it? It's mid-thirties as opposed to late thirties. I'm 36! Woot! My boobs arent' perky but my age is! Remember "Six" from the TV show Blossom? PERKY! In a really bad way, sure, but perky nonetheless.

When I told Brian about this -- about my found year and that I'M ONLY 36!! -- he just looked at me sadly and shook his head. "When you start forgetting your age, you're old."

"No, I didn't forget! I remembered," I insisted. "You're just jealous because you're 40."

"I'm 39."

"Oh. Well, then ... Shut up!" I said over his laughter, and I chucked the book at his head.