When Are You Old?

I just turned 27 this month and it occurred to me that I was a mere three years away from my 30th birthday. I am a fairly attractive and youthful woman, and I am even commonly mistaken for a high school student or a teenager, even by teenagers themselves. However, immediately after breaking the news to them that I am indeed not one of their peers, I am normally greeted with a horrified expression and a “wow” upon their comprehension of my true age. I am not sure if I am supposed to feel flattered - that they didn’t in a million years suspect my antiquity - or if I am supposed to similarly feel distaste and horror at the surging advancement of my years. And herein lies the question: am I old, or impossibly youthful? Obviously, in their eyes, the quoted years of 27 seem impossible to reach within the space of their lifetime, and are clearly indicative of devastating inactivity, incomprehension of the pop culture, and imminent death. On the other hand, the people I’ve gotten along with best my entire life are typically aged 40 and above. To them, I am a mere puppy; an amoeba in the evolutionary pond. I have so much ahead of me, so many things to accomplish, to understand, to experience… but for now, I’m still green behind the ears. I don’t prefer either analysis of my age; either I’m painted as a know-nothing newbie or a decrepit crypt-keeper. Either way, I still feel a bit out of place. What happens when I do begin to fit in with the 40- and 50-somethings, and I start to identify with the remorse of having one too many beers or cigarettes; when I start mourning my body instead of celebrating it; when I wish I’d done this or experienced that, and when I’ve lost the rosy spectacles of youth, replacing them with the grey lenses of the aged and depressed? Is it the pessimistic, regretful mindset that has caused me to be accurately described as “old” or is it the numerical notches in time? If I reach 97 years and am still looking forward to the next sunrise, the next word my lover speaks to me, my next gourmet meal, with enthusiasm and fascination, would I be old? Or would I be full of life? Is it the body or the mind? Is it your physical health? Is it your looks? Is it the perception of others or your perception of yourself? It’s the ultimate question: what makes you old? And I think it’s a pretty easy answer.