More Grey Hairs

I am almost thirty-seven Three days left. It’s coming up fast, like a velociraptor. I am running, but you know it’s gonna get me, and those things are wily. They’ve practically got hands. With giant claws.

Thirty Seven. That’s on the other side of the Thirties. Closer to the forties, where all sorts of secrets about life lie. Where I think they’ve put adulthood, at least temporarily.

Anyway, I found more grey hair today. Which is not such a big deal. People have been known to find those before the age of thirty. But it just seems symbolic, or something—the timing. The timing feels a little harsh. Like, yeah, this time next year, they’ll all be white. Just so you know.

That’s OK. White / grey hair is nice. I knew a girl with white hair where I used to work. It was gorgeous until she dyed it.

But thirty-seven ? How much am I supposed have accomplished by now? I think probably more than I have. Maybe A Nobel? An Oscar? Some other kind of giant prize? Something gold and shiny, triumphant and permanent that I can stick on a pedestal in the middle of the room and everyone can think, “Well, she’s amazing forever.” And then they will stop asking me questions like, What did you after your degree?  “So…you write? That’s fun. Anything else? Still a stay at home mum?” If not a prize, at least some recognition for things I have done in the past.

It was only the other week I overheard a conversation on the bus between two girls saying how they can’t believe they are going to be twenty five this year and one said about they are going to lie to people about their age as they don’t want to be twenty five. The other girl  said why lie about your age! I would only do that if I was forty. That conversation made me feel old.

I’m  a cliche—I get all angsty and existential around my birthday. I wonder if I’m wasting my life and any talents, I have yet to discover any I might actually have. Currently I just write and think about life.

My husband tells me I am a great mum, but I sometimes doubt that  – I am not the most patient person in the world. I love being a mummy but I also think maybe I should be doing more? People talk about me being able getting a job once E starts school, so I wonder if that is what is expected of me? Is being a full-time mum not considered a job?

It’s not that I’m afraid to be thirty-seven. I’m afraid to get older without accomplishing things and for people to make comment. I have a brother who is highly successful and everyone knows it and I am sure I get compared occasionally. I have had a lot of fun in the last thirty-seven years and I have lots of great stories to tell, maybe that could be considered and accomplishment? All I know right now is I seemed to have accomplished a few more grey hairs days before my birthday.

I shall try to embrace thirty-seven and make this a year of many accomplishments, but for now I will enjoy the last few days of being thirty-six and consider getting my hair dyed!