Getting Old

I’ll be thirty in just under a month. Several times over the last six months, that realization has snuck up and whacked me upside the head. Here’s the problem, though . . . .

I don’t *feel* that old. Not really.

If I were to ask a random passerby on the street, most assume I’m around twenty-five. It’s a blessing I’ve inherited from my mother–who people constantly age down ten years, until they are told I am her eldest daughter. But it’s also slightly annoying when I have to go to an event as a...