Well, you ARE 38...

Yesterday, I went to my doctor to discuss the results of a brain MRI. It sounds a lot scarier than it is - I had the MRI because of a long history of migraines and sinus troubles. The good news is, my brain looks completely healthy. There was no bad news. The NP said, "you have a little arthritis in the left jaw, some TMJ." I had suspected the TMJ part, since sometimes when I yawn, my jaw does something utterly horrifying: it locks WIDE OPEN. I can't imagine what that must look like, but I digress. Basically, I didn't know TMJ was arthritis. So I said, "arthritis?" Her response?


"Well, you ARE 38..."


What do you mean, "you ARE 38"??? Last time I checked, this wasn't an age at which people begin making their final arrangements, preparing to shuffle off this mortal coil. 


You may have figured out, this post isn't about arthritis at all. I'm cool with the TMJ thing. I just wonder if these days, we're making people older...younger. We live in a culture obsessed with youth, and that's nothing new. But slow it DOWN. About a month ago, I was looking at a brochure that outlined all the recommended surgical procedures for women, broken down by decade. Sure enough, the recapturing of youth via surgical intervention began in the teens. Say it with me: what the fuck?????


My OB-GYN is rather quick to remind me of my age, too. All that's missing in that office is an outsized hourglass that allows you to actually HEAR the grains of sand racing to the bottom half of the glass.


SLOW IT DOWN, guys! Yeah, I AM 38. I'm not 78! I'm still pretty young, god damn it! Don't get me wrong - I have regular panic attacks about whether I've wasted my entire youth, and I frequently ask myself, "is this ALL?" But I'm not ready to give the understanding head nod when someone acts like arthritis is all the rage at my advanced age. There's plenty of time to start arranging my meds in a pill reminder strip. Can I finish my 30s first, please?