I'm 38. I'm not old. But I'm getting there.
Every so often (and more and more often recently), something happens to me that reminds me that I'm no longer the kid that still lives inside me somewhere. On the inside, I am an amalgam of ages from my memory -- a young girl, a teen girl and a young woman. But in the mirror, my outsides show a different picture. When I look at myself closely, I see gray hairs, the starts of wrinkles and very, very tired eyes. And mentally, I am feeling older each day when my memory slips or I feel more and more out of touch with current-day fads (not that I've ever been very good at staying on top of the trends).
