Anything that has the word aged in it feels terribly offensive.
You don’t ever seem to get past the stretching stage, during your weekly exercise session.
Speaking of which, you frequently consider making your weekly exercise session, a monthly event.
When asked for age verification, you are (unnaturally) delighted, instead of mortified.
Your searches on YouTube are all for retro movies, retro music, retro memories …
You don’t remember the name of the lady in the shop across the street. But you remember every detail about the goddess you met at age 18.
The schools you attended are either renamed or torn down.
When with friends, you can’t stop talking about things that occurred double-digit years ago.
Most of your conversations with friends begin with “Do you remember … …”
You read everything on the nutritional labels of foodstuffs when grocery shopping.
You do complex calculations after reading the nutritional labels of foodstuffs, with the help of a calculator of course.
You no longer worry about not having enough sleep. The challenge for you is how to fall asleep.
You no longer bother to check yourself in the mirror before going out. There’s little to fuss over, anyway.
The most important contact numbers to you are not those of your clients or bosses or lovers, but your doctors’.
Anything font size 18 and below is considered gibberish and “poor design” to you.
And because of font size 18, 99.9 per cent of the books remaining on your aged bookshelves are large print editions.
You always get a seat on public transportation, because people get up at the sight of you.
The clothes you wore when hanging out with your buddies, are now featured in museum displays.
If God granted you one wish, you would ask for shoes that do not hurt the moment you step into them.
The music you bobbed to in your teens, is now consistently played on radio stations featuring “golden hits.”
The actors, idols, performers you swooned over as a teen, are now fat, married, married again after divorce, or dead from substance abuse.
When going to a restaurant, you don’t look for new dishes to try. You order without reading the menu. Things that your doctor would approve of, naturally.
Things that you consider scandalous are now featured in PG13 movies. Weekly.
Your favourite phone model has no colour screen, no camera, no MP3 player even. It was sold by a brand few people remember. And it requires a jack in the wall.
The console games you chilled out with in campus, are appearing on forums about “retro games.”
Games like Candy Crush confuse you terribly. So many colours! So many rules! What on EARTH is that striped one for?!?! Oh wait. They’re called APPS???!? A game is an app?!?!
You think people are insane if they look forward to outings like a weekend hike.
An ideal Saturday for you is one in which there’s a rerun of a good movie on a free channel.
An ideal vacation for you is one in which you don’t need to be active. You don’t need to walk around too much. You don’t need to climb stairs or, gasp(!), mountains. And consists of you mostly ferried about everywhere by an air-conditioned coach.
You feel you have hundreds of stories to fill a blog for years. Problem is, you can’t seem to remember the details for most … nope, all of them.
Wait, you don’t have a blog. WTH is that?!?! You use a DIARY.
Most of your correspondences contain fond references to juniors. Your son. Your neighbour’s son. Your buddy’s son. Your son’s son. And it’s clear that you long to be them.
There’s one section of the newspapers that you trash without ever flipping. It starts with “Ob … …”
You actually still read printed newspapers. Daily.
People tend to fret when you stay immobile for too long.
You don’t consider a house with multiple floors a luxury. You consider it a frightening hazard.
When you drop something, you tend to feel it’s fine that the object remains on the floor.
You hear about lists like this one, and you swear you wouldn’t read any.
Despite (38), you soon begin hunting for such lists. And you derive humour from most of the symptoms.
You are no longer aghast at what happened. The little kid in you no longer whines, what the hell happened to me?!?! You embrace being aged. And for better or worse, you come to terms with how your life has been.