I recently spent a day with a girl who is a friend of a friend. For the sake of anonymity let's call this girl Erin. Although, Erin might actually be her name. I can't remember.
So, um... Jennifer... no... Rene... no... Amber... yeah, "Amber" so let's go with that. Amber and I were talking and somehow it came up in conversation that I am thirty-one. Amber was twenty-something or some other godawful age in which girls talk about their older boyfriends and bikini waxing and thigh cellulite. These conversations were never my forte.
When I mentioned the fact that I'm thirty-one Amber's wide-eyed genuinely surprised response was "You're thirty-one?! Woowww." She then proceeded to stare intently at my face until pronouncing "Thirty one? You have really great skin."
On the one hand, thanks! I'll take the compliment.
On the other, how many people over the age of twenty-nine has this girl ever met? What does she think happens? On your thirtieth birthday you turn into the crypt keeper?
Later on that afternoon as we parted ways Amber told me her plans for the rest of the day, "Yeah... I think I'm just going to, like, lay out by the pool {glances at the clear blue sunny sky} Hm... yeah... I probably won't wear sunscreen today... well, bye!"
Ah, yes, that explains everything.
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