Can I See Your I.D?

Have you ever been told to “act your age”? Lately, I’ve been adding a triple layer of moisturiser, tossing out Victoria’s Secret perfumes (don’t ask), and furiously assessing my bucket list. Why? Because I’m turning 30, and apparently you’re meant to panic; typing that sentence just sent a wave of anxiety through my blood. Last weekend, I was super chuffed that the store attendant asked for my i.d, but perhaps it was just due to the mask (nah, it definitely was not the mask). I’m finding myself questioning “is this skirt too short now?”, or “can I wear butterfly clips in my hair?” I’ve also recently brought back TTYL into my vocab.

There is something in an age or the number that stirs up an inner paranoia. My father (please don’t cut me from the Will for this) recently turned 70 and began actively avoiding age-related conversations to dodge celebration or the shock associated response. I don’t know who invented this age thing, but they’re single handedly killing the vibes. To put it simply, we would not even have an age if someone (I’m going to find out who) had not invented the calendar, dates and years. So technically, ages are man made and don’t naturally exist. But obviously, I’m still going to throw that supercharged 30th party and will happily add the 10% birthday discount code to online orders.

Am I meant to dress demure forever now? Source: Pinterest

So, why are we so afraid of our age? Perhaps it’s society’s perception of how one is meant to look or behave, or that you are expected to have ‘x’ amount of life achievements that correspond with this one number. I recently swapped careers, so am I auto-stamped as a failed 30-year-old? Growing up, we’d have the conversations declaring “I want to be married and have two children by 30.” Or what? You’ll turn into a pumpkin? I have friends that have felt the disappointment of this, comparing themselves to those who are at different stages in their life. I remind them that life is no longer a conventional and predictable journey, and isn’t that the most exciting part? I don’t know if it is the pandemic, but life expectations have gone down the gurgler. Give me my Pfizer jab, and get me back on the streets of Williamsburg ASAP. This hit me as I bounced around to “Get On The Beers” at 2am in a Hobart nightclub over the summer.

So anyway, back to the investigation. For the purposes of this report, I will be pointing the bone at Julius Caesar, who runs closest in the solar race with the introduction of the Roman Calendar on 1 January, 45 BC. He was advised that the length of the solar year is 365 days and six hours, adding a day every fourth year and voila, the concept of a leap year was born. Sure, there have been competing calendars developed by the Olmecs in Central America, the Islamic lunar calendar and the ancient Egyptian calendar based around stars, but we can absolutely blame Julius for milestone miseries. Perhaps he just needed a method to organise his social calendar, I get it.

Please tell me I can still wear glitter and pink liner. Source: Pinterest

Although I admit that I absolutely milk my birthday month, I would prefer to base age off the wear and tear theory (self-explanatory) or the programmed theory centred around genes and the age-associated deficits that develop over time. We work hard to preserve our health and wellbeing (I deserve a Chemist Warehouse sponsorship), so why should we let Mr Caesar from the Roman rubble ruin our shine?

So whilst I will be sent into orbit during my birthday month, if you’re ever feeling glum about your age just blame that Julius Caesar chap. I will continue to wonder what it means to act your age, and I intend to never act accordingly to a number.

Disclaimer: the Journal of Aging and Disease is your saviour.