An empty elevator. Clean but cheerless.
ROSALYN steps onto the elevator from the fifth floor. She presses the P2 button and stares intently at the digital clock on her cell phone.
We see her adjust the two bags hanging on her shoulder - one is her purse and the other is a Clive backpack which we know contains her gym clothes.
The door to the elevator opens, and a middle-aged NEIGHBOR dressed in a collared shirt and dress slacks walks into the elevator toward ROSALYN, who moves to the corner of the elevator. She does not acknowledge him.
NEIGHBOR
(jovial)
Headed to school?
ROSALYN
(long pause)
No. I'm actually headed to my "big-girl job." You?
NEIGHBOR
(silence; embarrassed)
ROSALYN
(silence; annoyed)
Isn't being young amazing? No drama, no stress, no wrinkles.
What. A. BUNCH. Of. Crap.
I have had drama since I had boobs, stress since schools started grading me on more than just my ability to color inside the lines, and wrinkles since I started laughing at the ripe age of oh, infancy. Night cream helps, but can I just say that the only thing more depressing than wrinkles is having to wear night cream.
Ah, yes. Age.
My brother turned 22 today, which is fine except that I thought I was 22. I was forced to count backwards to 1985 only to realize that I am still, in fact, four years his senior. Which makes me, like, almost 26. Wait, that can't be right...
Except that it is.
Crap.
It seems like just yesterday I was a high school kid sitting in an upstairs loft in San Antonio, singing along to Soco Amaretto Lime as someone strummed it on a guitar. When I think back, all I want to do is be 18 again...
"I'm gonna stay eighteen forever so we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen to anyone about anything
Cause it's all been done and it's all been said
We're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
(You're just jealous cause I'm young and in love)"
Then I have some guy (jerk) in the elevator ask me if I'm on my way to school. As in, high school. REALLY sir? I may not look 25 but do I look 18 to you? Totally offended.
I actually get "the look" pretty regularly. "Nice to meet you Rosalyn, is the Finance Director running late?" Actually no. She's right here. And she heard you say that.
The doubters, the disbelievers, and the jealous retreaters. I've seen them all.
Some days I wish I was a few years older (or a few inches taller) and other days I am offended when I don't get carded at happy hour.
So I guess there's really no in-between. I'm an awkward middle-schooler all over again. Except this time I'm really an awkward twenty-something-er. There is no set of rules or guidelines that could appease me (I'll go ahead and admit it) but the following advice is, in my opinion, more than fair (for now):
1) When in doubt, the (ID) card comes out.
2) Don't question my Clive.
3) If you want to guess my age, don't.
4) If you think I look too young to be in my position, avert your eyes.
5) When tempted to share that you have grandchildren older than me, resist.
And so, I leave you with some awe-inspiring words of wisdom that I once saw on a bumper sticker: Age is just a number, unless you are a cheese.
Well-said Volvo, well-said indeed.
