Remember when you would mock those older women who lied about their age? When you would truffle hunt about for evidence that they were trimming the years off? When you would crow triumphantly at uncovering the untruth. Now hate yourself for a moment. And now forgive yourself. And let’s talk…
Perhaps you have a big birthday in the post. Or any birthday because they all herald the passing of time. Once you said you would never be so pathetic, so shallow as to lie about your age but what if you’re just not quite ready to be 38 or 40 or 47 or 51? What if you need a little time?
Lie about your age. Do it. Just a year. Stick. As in Blackjack. Nothing more for now thanks ever so much. I’m good. Because if you just shave a year off it acts as a shock absorber. You haven’t lopped so much off that your cultural references go skewiff. You don’t need to lie about where you were when Like a Virgin came out (having to violently veer from first fag to first steps) and your oldest friends can remain your contemporaries. Just in a slightly looser sense.
One year of grace lets you age gracefully. Let’s take 40 as a for instance. Can’t face it? Don’t do it. Don’t turn 40. Hang out in 39 for 12 months and by the time your next birthday swings around you’ll be delighted to be 40. It’ll be like someone has given you a present. “I’m 40!” you will shout – as your inner workings start to chew on the idea of being 41. Works at any age. Works a treat.