I No Longer Go To the Library

library-shelfI went to the library a few weeks ago. Shocking I know, but sometimes I actually have to go to the library live and in person not just online. Anyway, when I got to the counter to check out my stack of books, the librarian told me that she needed some information to update my library card.

I gave her my address and phone number and then she sat for a minute scanning the other information on the computer screen while I waited patiently. Handing my library card back to me, she cheerily announced, “We were both born in 74.”

“Really?” I said smiling back at her, but I was sinking inside. Here was a woman that I would’ve assumed was older than me, a woman that I might have referred to as ma’am, telling me that we are the same age. I’m a ma’am too. When did this happen?

She must be older than me. She must’ve have been born in January, I thought. “When’s your birthday?” I asked.

When she told me it was in September I almost fainted. She was younger than me. It’s true, I thought, I am a ma’am.

Overwhelmed by the knowledge that I wasn’t 21 anymore, I drove home in a daze. As soon as I walked through the door I asked my husband, “I don’t look as old as you, do I?”

That question isn’t as bad as it seems. You see, my husband is 9 years my senior even though some people don’t believe it. I don’t know if those people are complimenting him or insulting me.

“I should hope not since you are younger,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do I look like I’m as old as you?” I pressed knowing what he would say if he wanted me to cook dinner that evening.

“Of course not. You look the same as you always have.”

Satisfied, I smiled and refrained from examining the wrinkles around my eyes in the bathroom mirror. That wouldn’t solve anything anyway. Memorizing the lines on my face will not make me look any younger. The only possible way to keep my head buried in the sands of eternal youth is to avoid going to the library. I’m not sure how I’m going to return this stack of library books though.

Photo by twechy

A Shocking New Development

My husband made a startling observation the other day. When I heard it, I nearly fainted. Before you read the rest of this make sure you’re comfortably seated. Are you ready?

I’m 34. When did that happen? I’d been walking around for the past seven months living the life of a 33 year old. I’d been thinking 33-year-old thoughts and saying 33-year-old things. And all the while, I was 34.

This whole turn of events happened when I mentioned being 33 to my husband the other day. “You’re not 33,” he said. I was excited by this statement because I actually thought I was rounding up and that maybe he’d say, “You’re really 32.” He didn’t say that. This is what he said, “You’re 34.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You were born in 1974. This is 2008. That makes you 34.”

“No, I’m not,” I insisted. He obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

“You’re birthday’s in May. You’re 34 and I’m 43.”

“You’re 43!” This was completely astonishing to me.

“Unfortunately,” he said.

I’m glad I’m not the one that’s 43, I secretly thought as I left the room.

Meeting in the Middle

My husband is nine years older than me. I like to remind him of this as much as possible. Not because the age difference is a big deal to me, but because I like to see him squirm when I use the word older in reference to him. My father is 15 years older than my mother. I think that my grandfather was nearly 25 years older than my grandmother–now that’s a big age difference! I can’t even imagine. So, I’m keeping the family tradition alive.

Though we have an age difference, people usually assume we are the same age. They are shocked when they discover my husband’s age. Upon finding out that my husband was 41, one of my friends sat on our sofa and said, “That’s amazing!” repeatedly. I guess he does look young for his age.

One day an elderly woman started talking to us. She thought we looked like a nice couple. She talked to us for a little bit. As she talked, I was stunned by what she was saying. First she told my husband that he looked too young to be married.

“How could you be married? You’re so young,” she said to my husband. Then she turned to me and said, “Don’t worry. You have such beautiful skin, you’ll never age. White skin ages so fast. One day you’ll meet in the middle.” What’s that suppose to mean?

I must look older than he does. I looked at myself extra hard in the mirror that night after washing my face. I didn’t see many wrinkles–just a few lines under my eyes. Are these few wrinkles enough to make me look older than him? I hope not. I’m not into beauty products, but maybe I should look into buying some anti-aging cream. I could solve the problem by stressing my husband out so much that he gets some gray hair and wrinkles, but I would never do that.