Thursday, May 14, 2009

When did you feel it?

My generation is held culpable for whining about age all the time. It’s true; age and weather predominate our conversations. Maybe we have matured ahead of time due to our lifestyles and work stress. I think, work-life balance is the cruelest myth ever!

Every single time I say, "I am getting old," the older people yell me at. For someone in their fifties or sixties, thirty is the sweet age of opulence and vigor. I am mortified to admit (and bloody proud too) that both my father and mother-in-law are more about joie de vivre than most of my contemporaries.

Well, in some ways I agree with the adage: "You are only as old as you feel." That might be true mentally but on a physical level, equations change. If you are enervated, feelings and perception don’t matter. You can’t function. The other day, a friend in her mid-twenties, confessed that her brain couldn’t perform the basic tasks with just four hours of sleep, three nights in a row. That was the first sign for her. Even an overdose of caffeine betrayed her.

I was talking to my sister-in-law the other day, and she mentioned that at a dinner party at her place, despite a cornucopia of choices, people actually chose to eat salad. Now I know all these beloved folks. Five years ago, the same crowd would have not only alienated the greens and focused on a pure meat and alcohol diet but also ridiculed anyone who even glanced at the healthy options. Mind you, none of these people are over thirty-something yet felt that age had altered their food preferences.

Friends have shared various instances and experiences when they got a little visit from the "Age-Satan." I got a hint of aging (fine, turning thirty actually) when I metamorphosed from a nocturnal party animal into a morning creature. Aside from passing out from fatigue before midnight, I started finding bars too loud and wearing. Lip reading over deafening music doesn’t excite me any more. They got replaced with mood-suiting Mozart pieces and other forms of both western and Indian classical music. Aperitif at chic lounges ousted $5 cocktails, in hideous glasses, at Irish Pubs; often, spending time with intimate set of friends started winning over clubbing. Staying in on a Friday night--wearing PJs and ordering in and watching reruns of The ‘70s Show is our ultimate idea of Friday evening. It’s a luxury, and my husband and I wish we could do it more! A few years ago, I couldn’t imagine anything lamer than no social commitment on a Friday night.

Today, I’m okay with missing an opening night at a new wine bar or a new artistic event, just so I can watch my three nieces on Skype: Discuss "favorite authors" and celebrities with my oldest niece; art & food & dance with my second one; and watch the youngest clap her hands & devour the microphone.

Despite complete apathy towards ornaments, I am willing to discuss jewelry with my mom and mom-in-law on a Sunday morning instead of trying out a new brunch place and washing down the week’s nuance with a cup of freshly brewed cappuccino. My vacation list consists of exquisite time with my family too as opposed to JUST exotic places with my hubby. Up until a few years ago, we would travel every month. No exaggeration there. Ask our bank account; it’s orphaned:-) A confession: At times, clearing up all social commitments for a weekend and soaking in the free time (Oh, so rare) is the best therapy.

So, when was the first time you started feeling you’d aged?

More until next time.

Copyright © 05.14.2009

"The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young" Oscar Wilde


Vizzy said...

Very interesting piece.

N said...

I felt a new sense of energy reading your post since I too was feeling the same for some years now.

N said...

your words played guitar with my heart strings today

Anonymous said...

Staying in on a Friday night--wearing PJs and ordering in
me me me me me