The times they are a-changing

I think I'm getting old.

Actually, I know I'm getting old. Time has this funny habit of going forwards which, oddly enough, leads one to experience what scientists have termed as 'aging'.

But seriously, I'm turning into a grown up and it's starting to scare the shit out of me.

Exhibit 1: I was pleased to be ID'd in Sainsbury's last week.
The only time when I could rely on not getting ID'd is when I was underage. Do not ask me how that works except to say that I've gone through many different 'looks' and my college years was when I did my 'old lady' experimentation. Like all of us at ages 16 and 17 I would obsessively hunt through charity shops for that perfect £2.99 tweed skirt and old man jacket and then I would wear them. Outside. Where people could see me. And smell me in my (probably by now) dead person clothes. That is what I did, and it may have contributed to me often being mistaken for an insane 20-something rather than an insane teen. But since I turned 18, for whatever reason, I'm regularly ID'd and it's always pissed me right off because now I'm concerned I dress like a teenager. Except it has started happening less and less which either means I'm starting to dress my age (I'm not) or... worse, I'm starting to look my age (I am). I normally get a little nervous buying alcohol because, even now, that residual fear that you're getting away with something you shouldn't lingers on like a muscle memory but I didn't even think about this time and even made a 'grown ups' joke to the cashier along the lines of 'Can I have a plastic bag? I've been bad and left all mine at home'. I think this genuinely threw her and she definitely wavered when picking up the plonk from my basket but erred on the side of caution and asked to see my driver's licence. 'Sure' I said barely able to contain the glee.

This is when I realised I was old.

Exhibit 2: I cannot get through 2 bottles of wine in a night and feel ok the next morning anymore.
In fact I feel like I've died and have been cursed to exist as a living corpse. In years gone by red wine was my crack and I could practically chug that shit and be fine. I mean, I might puke up red sick but, as far as the day after was concerned, I was sunshine and roses. This is a talent that has slowly decreased over time and now seems to have disappeared completely. It doesn't help that I'm a total lightweight nowadays (equals cheap date boys, the queue starts here) but I have a mean time of two days for a hangover now. T-W-O days. That's 48 hours! Forty-eight hours of living torture. I also (whisper it) don't really like getting drunk anymore and consequently (I think) don't even feel drunk until I close my eyes and get spinnyheaditus. The gusset flashing, dancefloor hogging drunk girl of yore has been replaced by a merely slightly chattier version of my normal self. It's like I can't switch to drunk mode anymore. I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing except for the fact that I have two days of feeling awful for not much joy in the first place. Maybe I should just not drink two bottles of wine in a night anyway? Yeah? Ok, I'll put that on the 'perhap' list.

Exhibit 3: I have an Ikea catalogue in my toilet
For 'quiet time'. I flick through it and salivate over bright yellow oldy-worldy cabinets. They are all I can think about some days. This does not bode well.

Exhibit 4: I am considering dumping the man I am currently courting because I know it's not going anywhere
This is REALLY weird. He's a nice guy. Sort of. Well he's a nice guy with a 'I'm a bit of a cock' persona. You know the type, loud as a motorbike but wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight. Wait, not that type. That type is from Jay-Z songs. No, he sort of presents himself as a bit of a wideboy but is actually quietly intelligent and knows more than he lets on. He's fighting against the Jez/Corrigan paradigm (whereas I have learned to accept my Corrigan fate). I like him, we have fun together. I know it's never going to be anything more than that. Times of yore and that wouldn't have bothered me one iota. If you're enjoying yourself in the present then why worry about the future? But now I do, I don't want to be with someone who isn't the one for me.

(Of course, it might not help that this is the very definition of a rebound relationship and so the minute my heart has sufficiently healed I start getting antsy to get out of it but let's gloss over that and pretend it's because I'm all grown up and mature and shit yeah? Yeah.)

Exhibit 5: My body clock is now 'normal'
I've run on New York time for as long as I can remember. I could quiet happily stay up until 3 in the morning (and sometimes later) and do whatever work needed doing then. In fact I preferred it. I felt more creative, more alert, more buzzed after the hours of midnight than I did at any other time of the day. Getting out of bed each day was hell and, were I FORCED to have to awaken before 8am I would feel drowsy until midnight and then perk up. Thus the cycle continued. These days I get up AN HOUR AND A HALF earlier than I have to in order to exercise and am happy to do so. 'Happy' might be overstating it a little, 'capable' is nearer the mark but still, it happens and has been for the last month. I've been on health kicks before but I would never ever ever dream of waking up EARLIER than required (and certainly not at a time starting with a '6') in order to punish myself with power yoga. It is sick and it is wrong. It is certainly not me.

At least 'proper' grown ups still intimidate me. And I think I'm ok until I have something sensible to add to a conversation about mortgages.