Remember back when you were a kid and whenever somebody asked you how old you were, you automatically added enough to your age to make you older? “And how old are you little missy? “Six and a half!” “Wow, when was your birthday?” “October.” “So, you looking forward to Christmas?” “Yep, I can’t wait! Only 5 weeks to go!”
Yeah, I was pretty bad at math, even back then. But seriously, there is this wacky magical dateline in a body’s lifeline that should have big ole neon lights and those traffic cones set up all around it. You know, that day that you just happily sailed right past not even realizing that you had somehow passed from “wanting to be older” to “wanting to be younger”. I know there were no warning signs in my life. Just one day I stopped automatically wanting to make myself older.