I FIRST realised that I am getting older while in a club recently.
I've often viewed myself as a hip young thing, the toast of the town (or at least the toast of my small circle of very loving and biased friends), and definitely part of the MTV generation (hip-hop bling style).
That came crashing down as I witnessed two young girls (barely) dressed in what can only be described as "hoochie wear", grinding on each other in time to the beat on a podium.
"Do their parents know where they are?" I wondered aloud to a friend.
There was stunned silence. The world seemed to slow down and stand still.
I took stock. I try not to dance suggestively with girlfriends unless in jest. I don't wear tiny mini-skirts that can be classified as belts. Let's just say that now, my mother approves of my style.
Yes, I thought that night, I am no longer 18. And it's great that I don't do all that stuff anymore. Mutton dressed as lamb, anyone?
But realising that you're older means that you know that you're no longer bright, shiny and new in the world.
I'm not the only one among my friends who is starting feel my age. Several of us have turned 30, and others, like me, have hit 29.
We complain about knees hurting after a night of dancing. Hangovers are harder to shake off.
Yet getting older can be great. You're allowed to slow down and aren't expected to do as much as before.
That aside, I personally can't wait to get to age 30. The number has always held a certain allure. It's the age, I'm told, where you settle into yourself and where all the lessons learnt in your 20s suddenly add up and make sense.
Things bother you less, a 32-year-old friend once told me. I've started to feel that in my late 20s already. I meet younger girls who agonise about everything - from guys to the colour of their hair - and I catch myself thinking, "Does it really matter? No, really."
I remember when all that stuff mattered to me too, but I find it hard to empathise with now. My motto in life lately is "Get over it".
Nevertheless, freak-outs at turning the corner on a decade inevitably happen.
A turning-30 friend of mine called up recently, telling me her life wasn't on track. She doesn't know if she wants to marry her boyfriend, she still doesn't know if she wants to have kids, and she's in the midst of switching jobs.
And this she should settle before she turns 30 this month, she said.
"Get over it" seemed to work very well for her.
Once she calmed down, she realised that she doesn't have to figure it out today. She doesn't even have to figure it out tomorrow.
She has the rest of her life to figure it all out - just as she did in her 20s.
Life doesn't end with a number. Nor is there a rush to hurry towards what you thought should be happening.
Because doesn't growing older mean that life gets bigger and better, but that you understand that you can deal with it at your own pace?
Me, I'm still going to hit the clubs this Friday as if it were 1999. That is, till the clock strikes 2am. Then I'm going to do the "old people thing", as my 24-year-old cousin says.
I'm going to head home, citing knee problems. Then I'll make a cup of tea, snuggle up to the much-beloved boyfriend and switch on the telly.
Yes, it sounds like the exciting activities of a near-geriatric.
But I suspect that if you were being honest, you'd agree that it sure is fun pretending to be in your 90s while you're still in your (late) 20s.
