Yep – I know, I’m only 28. But the signs of age are creeping up on me at an alarming rate.

It’s now an expected ritual to pluck at least one grey hair every couple of days out of my head.

My muscles hurt more than ever before; I’m currently sitting at work, typing this post, with a hot pack over my shoulder. This morning I got into the shower, turned suddenly and ripped something all way from behind my ear to my shoulder. Ow.

I have the beginnings of crowsfeet.

My girlfriends and I recently found ourselves in a restaurant bathroom comparing wrinkles. We’d been having this hilarious conversation during dinner about aging, and each of us believed that our wrinkles were worse than anyone else’s at the table – so after dinner we all trooped to the bathrooms, crammed ourselves above the sink and compared face lines. I’ll admit – I didn’t win, but I was certainly in with a chance.

The amusing part of this story is that a waitress came in to tell us that drug use was not permitted in the bathrooms. The laughter that ensued was so loud; other people came in to see if everything was okay. The enviably young waitress couldn’t possibly understand that the days of getting high to go out for a nice meal with your girlfriends were long gone for us – two of our group had kids to go home to, and the rest of us needed to work early the next day.

I think that’s another sign of age – still having fun and getting up to mischief, but timing it so it doesn’t affect things like work and family life.

I have more cardigans than anyone else I know.

I crochet (very well) and have considered taking up needle point.

And the worst sign of aging to date – I can now pick up a Woman’s Weekly magazine (I haven’t reached the devastation of buying them myself yet – I have an older family member who does), and I don’t just flick to the fashion pages and the stories with young cool actors in them. I can actually read it cover to cover. Through the cooking pages, the handy home hints, the true “My Child Saved My Life” stories. The columns about the funny things people wrote in about their child/husband/best friend. Even the clairvoyant section. If that’s not a sign of getting old and losing my mind – I don’t know what is.

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