Well, it's official: I have reached the
age where I can't remember how old I am going to be on
my birthday.
I find this to be a rather funny affectation. Throughout my growing up, I was always excited about my birthday, even if others weren't. I always looked forward to aging another year, and while this hasn't changed, it would be nice to know how old I'm going to be without having to pause and do the math. It's as though my brain refuses to age me beyond 25, like it's saying, "Whew! look at them apples! A whole quarter-century has gone by. I think I'm gonna take a little break". At least that's the last age I can readily recall whenever I have think about how old I am going to be. I've discussed this with Ben and he agrees with my observation. He hasn't been 25 since 1998, yet he feels as though he's not aged a day beyond that. I think I shall spend some time researching this further to see if this is common, or if we've just got something in our water that's affecting our minds. Either way, I guess my mind will have me fozen in time as 25 until another milestone age (40, maybe?) comes to pass.
There is, of course, another possible explanation for this. My mother, thinking I would act as my sister did as she neared 30, tried to tease me by asking me "how it felt to be just three years away" from that age. I told her truthfully that I never really thought about it at all, and that I actually have to stop and think about how old I'm going to be. This seemed to impress her. She said:
"Yeah, I don't realize how old I am until I stop and think about it. I don't pay much attention anymore to my birthday or how old I'm going to be. You know your father's never paid attention to his birthday."
So, there you have it. The inablility to remember how old you are going to be on your next birthday just may be one of the early indicators that you are becoming your parents.