I know my real age. Do you know yours?

What's Your Real Age?

I ask this because I have a little thing called denial concerning my age. I see someone I think is around my age and then later find out they are at least five years younger.

Here's an example: The other day I am at my son's football game. I see a man holding one of the markers and think, "Wow, he looks familiar." This happens a lot. It comes from growing up in a small town where you know everyone. I still think I am in that same small town and that if I just look hard enough I will find someone I know.

As not to make a fool of myself I don't jump to conclusions. I wait... I watch ... I measure him up: he's about the right height, possibly similar weight (hard to say since I haven't seen this person since high school) so I keep watching. I then lean over and confidently tell my husband that, "I think I know that guy." He informs me that he met him last week. Tells me the guy is a huge Boise State fan. Ah ha! I think to myself. For sure this is the same guy because everyone from my small Idaho town is a huge Boise State fan. Now with that piece of information I grow more confident. The game ends. I purposefully pass by him, making a last chance size up. I decide to go for it. I interrupt him and ask if his name is "such and such"

"No. It's Billy Bob" he informs me. (It wasn't really Billy Bob, but you get the picture) My face reddens. His wife looks at me as if I am trying to pick up on her husband. Why do I feel so stupid? Why do I want to hide in my camp chair cover? I ramble on about how much he looks like someone I used to know. I'm a blithering idiot. I can see the wife is about to take me down. I apologize and run like a *Patas Monkey to my car. (* Patas Monkeys can run up to 30 miles an hour. No I can't really run that fast, but that's a pretty good piece of useless information, don't you think? See, this blog is good for something.)

Now you may ask why this is a big deal? Well, it's not I suppose, except that I do it all the time and the person is NEVER who I think they should be. But the worst part is what happened next. I went home. Looked old classmate up on Facebook. Realized that the man I saw at the football game looks NOTHING like said classmate does now. Classmate is old. Classmate is fat Classmate has a shiny cueball for a head. (Now don't get all huffy.There is NOTHING wrong with having a cueball for a head. I like them. They are smooth and magical. This guy just had changed a whole lot.) I looked in the mirror. I'm not that old! Am I? I used to believe I was about 28. Now I've graduated to...say...maybe 32? Yeah, I'd go for 32. But 37? NO! Not the 37 I see around me. Not that guy they showed on the news tonight wanted for armed robbery. I saw his mug shot and thought, "What an old dude." Then I heard his age, 35. 35? NO!!! He's fat, and hairy, and mean looking. And he's younger than me!!!It's a frightening thought.

So tonight before bed I scrubbed my face thoroughly. Lathered on the wrinkle reduction, skin tightening, sun spot remover, put on the mask, and swore on my mother's uncle's, cousin's grave that I wouldn't sleep on my stomach tonight. But I know in the end the laugh lines, sun spots, sagging eyelids,and wrinkles on my neck are still going to seep through, and no matter how hard I try to sleep on my back I will still end up on my stomach, with my face smushed against my pillow, dreaming that I am 25, 110 pounds, and dancing barefoot in a meadow of dark chocolate covered clovers. Ahhh...see? Life is still pretty good. I can still dream.

Sweet dreams everyone.