Age Of Confusion

I think I may have been born without the mechanism that tells your brain how old somebody is – I seem to be incapable of guessing people’s ages. I’m able to distinguish whether a person is older or younger than me but that’s about where my ability ends. It’s starting to look like 12 year olds are driving cars and 60 year olds and I are in the same age ballpark.

The topic of age came up while a cameraman was setting up for a TV shoot I was on last week. He asked the dreaded question: How old do you think I am? I gave it my best shot and came up 10 years too young! I didn’t ask him to take a run at me. I thought my 60-year-old neighbour was just a few years older than me until she spontaneously told me her age one day. I’m telling you, I’m missing some sort of microchip that gauges human vintage.

The last time my Little Sister and I took in the CNE, I confidently strode up to the age guesser while she was getting a henna tattoo. People have always guessed me too young and I thought I had it in the bag but this guy was bang on. Not just close, not within the range he was allowed by carnival law, no, he got it exactly. I was surprised at how my heart sank! If I were the carny, I’m sure I’d be out of stuffed bears in half an hour.

Getting older doesn’t bother me like it seems to bother others. I rather prefer it to not getting older, if you know what I mean. But I do wish I were better at guessing the ages of those around me. It just bugs me. You know the saying, “you’re not getting older, you’re getting better”? Well, on this particular skill, I’m definitely getting worse.