Getting older, getting busier, getting tireder means that weird shit keeps happening.
Your contact lenses are holding your personality together
Picture the scene. You are about to get off public transport on the way to a really important meeting. A girl in front of you flicks her hair as you stand up and in doing so actually flicks your contact lens out of your eye. You do not have a spare. You spend the entire meeting half blind. When you tell the story people are aghast and yet somehow you still feel incompetent.
You have casual sex
And you don’t spend the rest of the month trying to forgive yourself/wondering if he will call. This is intensely liberating.
Your jeans don’t do up
And you think, ‘That’s because I like pizza’ and order some slightly bigger jeans.
You find yourself sitting with three people you’ve slept with at a pub
Yes, there’s the low level hum whenever you go out that you might bump into someone you’ve been intimate (PLEASE NEVER USE THAT WORD AGAIN) with. But nothing prepares you for actually sitting in a pub garden, squiggled around a table with three people you’ve seen naked. And the rest. Including your current partner. But still.
You have hypothetical fights with Donald Trump in the shower
Not an ex-boyfriend or a current boss or a terrorist friend but Trump. And you win. You hope no one can hear though.
You are suddenly brilliant at maths
It’s like the veil has lifted. And you believe in your mathematical self. And you can do really complicated sums in your head and occasionally work out percentages. A lot of it has to do with pay rises, side returns and baggage allowances.
Your short term memory is like an Etch-a-Sketch
Ha ha ha it’s so funny how you can’t remember anything. “What was I saying?” is now the thing you say most of all. This is not actually that funny.
Yes root canals. Yes flossing. Yes hygienists. Yes you are seriously considering Invisalign braces. But teeth being extracted? Like in Blackadder? You can still hear the splintering of the tooth in your dreams. You were so nervous the dentist injected your face with all of the anaesthetic she could get her hands on. You’ve spent two days explaining that you haven’t had a mild stroke. Nothing has made you feel less empowered. Now that wasn’t part of the plan.
You suddenly realise that your coping mechanisms are worse than your actual problems
Your inner child has become an Inner Old Lady
Time was when you used to be able to get in at 4am, confident that two hours sleep would see you right for all the work ahead. Now if someone suggests a movie at 8:30pm your IOL shakes her head and bangs her zimmerframe very loudly until you meekly suggest, “How about a quick drink instead?” Your IOL is much bossier than the inner orphan you’ve been trying to nurture for 20 years.