Age

K says I am an old hag. I'm officially in my upper thirties now; old hag.

I'll be honest, when I was younger I always thought it was silly to get caught up in the age game, but now that I'm here - and maybe it's part of living in Manhattan - it's hard not to.

Feeling used up, washed up, no longer young, no longer even jealous bc I feel like I'm out of the running - this despite being consistently clocked for 4 - 8 years younger than my actual age.

So I have to wonder how much of this is just K. She is older than I am. She was a Ford model. I think she puts more stock into the age/beauty game. 

I have been looking for celebrity inspiration. Heidi Klum is transitioning nicely from her modeling career. Jennifer Aniston, Cameron Diaz, a bit older than me and both single (and I have to ignore the celebrity-industrial caricatures of these ladies). Women into their forties still looking awesome and doing cool stuff.

And that is, in case you missed it, the other half: not just being older, but being single and being older. And for me, too, being late to school, wishing I had some sort of legal career, following politics and policy, wondering if my MBA will truly be worth it.

Anyway. As I think it through, I'm pretty happy with where I'm at. I think there are outside influences causing me to question my contentment.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

My body crackles when I stretch.

I carry my tension in my shoulders and neck. Sometmes, it feels like everything between my neck and lower back is just a slab of dried meat, or a rocky carapace molded into its final shape. Then, I stretch - reach for the sky! Reach for the walls! Grainy musculature grinds against itself. Sinews bend only with the promise to snap back into shape.

Then, I twist my neck, and with a pop I feel tension release, like a spring that's come unwound.

I'm getting older. Not old, but certainly older. It's lamentable that as much care as I put into the meat-sack, it's already wearing out.

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