Act your age

This past weekend, I turned 38. To celebrate, Valtteri and I met up with a few friends and engaged in one of Finland’s most treasured national past times: Drinking champagne on a rock.

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Not a taste I wanted to acquire, but here we are.

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Our group also took part in another, perhaps more universal, tradition of telling a woman that she looks younger than her years.

“Thirty-eight?” my friend’s boyfriend asked, feigning surprise. “Hm. You don’t look 38.”

“Oh really?” I asked, leaning in. “How old do I look?”

Our friend paused and cocked his head to one side. I could tell by the amount of thought that he was giving the question that I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Hm,” he repeated, as he worked out the long division in his head. “I would say… 34 or 35?”

This, of course, was an objectively bad guess, as it was neither flattering nor markedly different from my actual age.  

“Well that’s basically what I am,” I countered.

“Oh noooo,” he insisted, grabbing a shovel to continue digging his hole. “I don’t think of 38 as close to 35 at all.”

We all laughed as he struggled to course correct.

“They’re different!” he insisted. “Thirty-five and 38 may be close in number, but they aren’t the same age!”

And I will concede that’s true—or at least admit that I know what he means. Thirty-eight often sounds older than it looks. Luckily for me, it doesn’t feel any different from 32 and 35… and I suspect that will still be the case at 41 or 43. Hopefully, if I play my cards right, it will look that way too.

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Summer. #helsinki #finland #summer

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But even if I don’t look my age, I definitely give it away every now and then. It’s inevitable really, that I’ll occasionally act my demographic as I recap an episode of Dateline or ignore a ringing phone with the phrase, “Let the machine get it.” I might be able to pass for 30 on a good day, but I’m not really fooling anyone–at least not when I’m trying to “sync a bluetooth device” or “save it to the cloud,” which are phrases I say but don’t really understand.

And with that, in celebration of another year older, wiser and, dare I say, more self-aware than ever, here’s a short list of things I do that prove I’m 38:

Peek through the window of the Kiehls shop to make sure the sales clerk who plays fast and loose with the sample sachets is working before walking in.

Complain to cashiers that I have “too many pennies.”

Try to convince loved ones that sorbet is the same as ice cream. Occasionally slip up and pronounce it sherbert.

Give detailed recommendations on mops.

Have “good towels” to put out when company comes over.

Begin every conversation that takes place outside of the United States with, “Do you speak English???”

Tell people, unprompted, that I “don’t have time for nail polish.”

Offer to tip anyone who does a halfway decent job, including my accountant.

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Anyone who reads my blog knows that I believe in signs. When something out of the ordinary happens, I take note… and then try to figure out what that note means. And that is why, last week, when I arrived in Helsinki to find my checked luggage torn to bits, I had to wonder: What was the universe trying to tell me? Was this an omen that moving to Finland was a bad idea? Could it be a sign that I should have left my belongings, along with my job, back in Germany? That I shouldn’t have come at all? Only time will tell, I suppose. But more immediately, the message may far more literal: You can’t move a one-bedroom apartment in a plastic bag. Why I did that in this week’s blog. Link in bio | See post: She’s packing.

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Hold strong opinions about butter.

Casually drop the first name of my hair stylist’s child into conversation and expect everyone else to know who I’m talking about.

Fill in awkward silences with stories about other people’s cats, small appliances and “new” super foods.

Get incredibly stressed when people don’t use coasters even after sending very subtle cues, such placing one’s glass directly on a coaster or saying something like, “And HERE is a coaster for YOU!”

Look at the weather forecast then immediately follow it up with, “That’ll change.”

Buy outfits that are “perfect for Italy” even though no trip to Italy planned.

Ask people if they need this “good box”?

Expect my husband to carry two bags before I handle one.

Have a favorite Yankee Candle scent that puts me “in the Christmas mood.” (Burn it year-round because “It should always be Christmas in your heart.”)

Send people unsolicited pictures of my houseplants.

Have a shoe box full of beauty products that don’t work but that I’m saving because they’re “still good.”

Respond to the question, “What’s new?” with great detail and honesty.

Lock my credit cards as an added safety measure.

Decorate with shoes!

Watch clips of Meghan McCain on The View and then realize, yeah – 35 is pretty different!

What about you? Tell me your tells at any age.

14 comments to “Act your age”
  1. At 55, when we were kids we could ride our bikes or walk to school (no there weren’t lines of cars with kids getting taken to school) as both my parents worked and when we got home we’d run around the neighborhood all afternoon long and play with the other kids and didn’t have to worry about anyone being kidnapped.

  2. 52.
    Tells my age: a row of 12 bottles with supplements – magnesium & Co.

    Doesn’t tell my age: I received two flower bouquets last week. Currently, one is in a bucket and the other is in a water jug.

    • OMG. the supplements. The supplements! one of my favorite things to do is buy supplements and then lose interest in them or hate the way they taste, smell, whatever. I suppose that with time I will learn to actually take them.

      I hear you on the vases. I only own a small collection now because of the Valentine’s Day fiasco when I asked for one and didn’t get it… and then basically told Valtteri not to come home from work the following day unless he had a vase with him. Fast forward to our wedding day. He goes to pick up the flowers I ordered (one bouquet for me, one arrangement for our house and a small corsage for his mother). But oddly enough, his aunt sent an arrangement to the same shop we used as a gift. HA. FUNNY. so he comes home with them and I’m like “That’s so nice!! Tell me you bought a vase.” (the shop next door sells them for $2.99) and he said, WHAT???? and I was like, You did not show up here TODAY without a vase after ALL WE’VE BEEN THROUGH with the flowers. And he was like, “no???” and I was like, I swear to God, I will call off this wedding if you don’t get me a vase.
      And we still got married so life is good.

  3. Ha! I was just thinking about this as I’m turning 30 in August and I have a lot of friends who are about 10 years younger than me… it’s starting to show.

    • Happy early birthday! lots of good things come in your 30s – so excited to see how it all plays out for you.
      It’s good to have friends ten years your junior… they keep you young. xx

  4. I was swimming in Cape Cod Bay this morning with my 24 year-old friend, on vacation. We were musing about why there were so few people on the beach; perhaps because the sky was somewhat cloudy, we thought. I said, so what is everyone doing inside, then, playing board games? She burst out laughing and reminded me that people now have computers, phones and TV’s. I turned 64 5 days ago.

    • Tell your 24 year old friend that the kids are almost certainly on TikTok! I would actually love to see what kids would do with a desktop. Give it another few years and it will be like those videos of millenials trying to dial a rotary phone.

      Enjoy the Cape and thanks for reading!!

  5. Something about coasters will probably be on my headstone. I turn 52 this month.

    Our son was home from school for a bit this summer, and just turned 21 (legal drinking age here, but he’s been living abroad and “of age” for a while now), so the most fun I had was when we’d order drinks as a group and the server would say “… and I’m going to need to see some ID,” I would sigh with feigned impatience and hand mine over with an “of COURSE you do,” while my son rolled his eyes.

    … because that never gets old …

  6. I’ve caught myself saying more than once that “all the doctors look like babies” (because to be honest, most of them are younger than my 40 years).

    Also: Metallica’s “The Unforgiven” came on the radio today at work and I said out loud how “it reminds me of my youth” (and also an unforgettable sexual encounter, but I didn’t share that with my co-workers).

    Last but not least: I’ve stopped explaining that my grandson is not my biological grandson. People don’t look startled anymore when I mention him; I have now reached the age where me having a grandchild is completely believable.

    • Ha! I am getting there! I used to always feel like the youngest person in the room at work… now, not so much! For what it’s worth, you look YOUNG. keep up the good work!

  7. I turned 38 also this year, but I noticed my age awhile ago. Like giving financial advice to younger people even though I have no business giving financial advice to anyone. When I started commenting that high school aged kids looked like babies and my early bedtime.

    • ah yes, when teenagers look like babies. perhaps the only thing worse than us thinking they seem so young is when they realize how old we are. the last time a person in their early 20s realized i was in my late 30s… let’s just say the look i got was WOUNDING. anyway! its 10:30. off to bed i go. xx

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