Dropping Thirty-Five

It should come as no surprise that I've been dreading this weekend all year long.  This Sunday, I will officially turn thirty-five years old.  I tried really hard to run in the other direction but it looks as though it has finally caught up with me. Oh. My. God. I. Am. Thirty. Five.I can't explain why it seems like the end is oh-so-near.  In the big scheme of things, I'm only thirty-five.  I've got my whole adult life ahead of me, right?  It doesn't seem so bad when you look at it that way.  However, little things are starting to pop-up here and there that are making me uncomfortable.

Here are my recent revelations:

* Setting your age at thirty-five on the treadmill changes your target heart rate.  I feel like the trainers are going to keep a special eye on me now.  You know, in case my thirty-fve year old heart explodes on the machine. (Better hope you're not next to me)

*Any pregnancy is now considered high-risk for no other reason except that I am old.

*My mom referred to me as a "cougar" the other day.  Jesus Christ! Talk about offended!  I'm thankful that she has very little concept of pop culture references and just hears a term and uses it loosely.  She'll probably call my brother that soon and that shit will go from pissing me off to absolutely hilarious.

Now, here is the true story of a girl on a plane who was emotionally wounded by a semi-jackass passenger.

So, I'm getting on a plane and have the unfortunate experience of sitting next to a guy who seems completely harmless.  I should have known that when he started talking to me before my ass was even in the seat, that I was in for a long flight.  At first it wasn't a big deal.  He was one of the REALLY loud talkers so everyone could pretty much hear him.   Humble was not a term he was familiar with.  After showing me his new netbook, high-end brand name cell phone and sharing the square footage of his house, the conversation took a turn into "please-don't-fucking-go-there-land".

Politics.  I really am not a fan of discussing politics with strangers.  If I wanted to do that, I would have a very different job.  I wouldn't be sitting here with my feet up, listening to birds and staring at the scenery.  Naturally, he has a well-thought out collection of views that I now have to listen to for the next several hours.  Wait - did I mention he was on his way to a bodybuilding event in Vegas?  This is exactly the kind of person I want to debate health care reform with.  After several excruciating hours of NON-STOP talking at a record breaking decibel, he had the nerve to say this to me.

"You know what's wrong with this country?  Women are waiting too long to have children so we have all of these older gals having kids in their late thirties and early forties and that's a problem."

Needless to say, I immediately woke up from my half-listening state.  I'm pretty sure the tone of my "excuse me?" was noted.  He went on to explain that when women wait to have kids, that it throws off the generational learning pattern.  Because when women have children at that age, that means that the grandparents of that child are probably dead and therefore the child doesn't get to learn basic old-school morals and values from their grandparents.  It's DEPRIVING the child who will now end up in prison by the age of twenty-one - all because their mom was old.

I kept my mouth shut and politely smiled and nodded when I had to listen to all of this joker's other politcal bullshit but IT'S GAME ON NOW, BUDDY.  You've offended me on several different levels.  First off, I'm thirty-five.  Secondly, my father is no longer living and lastly, you are a complete tool if you think that my parenting skills won't suffice because my child doesn't have a grandfather.  I think the word I'm looking for here is 'fuck off'. 

After all was nicely said and done I realized he had a very strange look on his face.  He looked mortified that a woman would have an opinion, much less vocalize it.  Yeah, I have an opinion on things that matter to me and I'll talk about it all the live-long fucking day until I can't stand to hear my own voice anymore.  I couldn't WAIT to hear what nugget of knowledge was about to come out of his mouth next because my verbal gun was cocked and loaded.  His response?

Jesus, I thought you were twenty-three.

All was forgiven on that flight.  Happy thirty-fifth birthday to all and to all a jackass-free flight.