How did I get to be 28?

When did this happen to me? One minute I’m jumping on planes all over place, next I’m pottering around watering the cherry tree, discussing the recent decline in bee numbers and drinking cups of tea.

When I walk downstairs or bend down, my knees are all creaky and musical. Mind you, they’ve always done that. It’s just that when it’s combined with the knee thing I sometimes get, where I have to jump up the stairs a little on my left side cause my knee hurts, it makes me confused.

Because what kind of young sprightly teenager has to hop up the stairs a little cause of her achy knee?

One who’s 28, that’s who.

Twenty bloody eight.

I just… It’s just… When… What….

WHO DID THIS TO ME? Someone is responsible for this madness and I’d like to know who, please? Who?!

I just can’t understand why I have to make a little effort noise when I reach far for something or stand up from crouching.

I don’t understand why everyone is having babies and getting married. I don’t know who contacted them about the MarriedWithBabies party but I certainly didn’t get an invite and I’d recoil in horror if I ever received one.

Why isn’t everyone else recoiling in horror? My mind is boggled that they have accepted the invite and joined the party.

But we’re barely out of school! How can we be having babies?! This is outrageous. Outrageous, I tell you.

And when did I start going for a wee during the night? Now that is a real growing-older thing. I never in my life used to get up to go to the toilet. That’s crazy talk. Why are you so weak-bladdered, all you grown ups? And now, now I have started going for a wee in the night.

When did I stop handstanding against the wall? And spending every spare minute reading books? When did I stop blabbering on like an idiot to every little ‘How’s things?’ and instead revert to the infinitely more boring, ‘Yeh, good. You?’

When did I stop telling everyone who would listen about this amazing year I’d just spent living in Africa and instead start referring to it very briefly in passing to people who I’ve known a good while and having them say, “O, wow, I didn’t know you’d lived in Africa.”

Well, of course I lived in Africa, yells my 19 year old self. Africa epitomises the person I have become! It was the most seminal experience of my life!

My 28 year old self, however, just goes, “Yeh, I moved there for a while after I finished school.”

28, hey? Twenty bloody eight. And a half, actually. Eighteen months away from 30.

It is ten, I repeat TEN, years since I left home. Ten years.

I was in work the other day and someone guessed my age, said they thought I was younger than 25. Is that because I’m so light hearted and chirpy and cheerful and youthful?

I doubt it.

Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t know many cheerful people who spend their time shouting and stamping about and wearing their best grumpy face.

Who made me grumpy, by the way? Who made me 28 and who made me start moaning about stuff?

They owe me an explanation! And they owe me some years. The calculations must have been done wrong.

Because somehow, I’m 28.

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15 responses to this post.

  1. Time is an odd thing really. The more you have of it the less you have left to spend. If the figures are to be believed there are approx 600,000 deaths per year in the UK which means 1,650 deaths per DAY. If you’re alive by the end of today you’re better off than 1,650 others who won’t make it and the 1,650 who won’t make it to the end of tomorrow. (Btw of those 1,650 each day approx 275 are smoking related.) Just in folks I know who’ve lost children, one recently lost a 7 year old, another a 19 year old and another a 27 year old. Also be glad you’re 28 because there is a special club called the 27 club. Once you join you can’t get out. The club consists of musicians who’ve died at 27 years of age. It includes people like: Brian Jones (Rolling Stones), Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison (The Doors), Alan Wilson (Canned Heat), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana) to name just a few. (If I remember one of your posts, you nearly joined it didn’t you when you got sick a few years ago!) Count your blessings, I think, is the best modus operandi!

    Reply

  2. Heh heh…a good giggler for this morning.
    I definitely know how you feel. While I was never exactly a wild thing in my youth, it positively amazes me that I’ll be 30 years old in less than 7 months.
    It’s so funny because I have a university degree, an experienced career in industrial maintenance and commissioning, a husband of four and a half years, a daughter who will be three in December, and a mortgage, and yet I still don’t feel like an adult. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever really feel like an adult. o.O

    Reply

  3. You are as old as you feel, so some say 🙂

    Reply

  4. As my dad would say when someone complained about getting older, “You’ll get over it.” ;=) When you’re 38, 48, 58, each decade will be filled with a new maturity, appreciation, happiness, sadness, joy and hope.
    Good post!

    Reply

  5. Posted by racheve on October 6, 2013 at 21:26

    Oh just you wait until you hit 29 and are staring 30 ever so more closely in the face, like me, sadly. It’s criminal to have your years stolen while you were away living just day to day. No the positive I keep getting told, at least your not nearly 50, helpful, didn’t really think so!

    Reply

  6. […] was thinking again about LLM’s post last Sunday and a few of the replies. Time is one of those things we can’t stop happening. It’s also one of […]

    Reply

  7. I turn 28 next month and every time I wear high heels to work to look like a hottie I end up with sore knees and regret…because I’m old, old, old. And I feel this urgency to have babies now, yesterday…because again, I’m super old. Bleh.

    Reply

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