For a little while now I've been feeling that the numbers in my age are...well, surreal. And overwhelming. I'd better get used to it, I know. But sadly, the older I get, the vainer I become.
The disbelief of others bears little consolation. In fact, their surprised exclamations and suspicious looks make me feel a little delinquent, an impostor inhabiting my own flesh and bones.
Surely things ought to be a lot different. Some sort of balance and wisdom should have been reached by now. But adulthood is just not happening to me. Then getting old shouldn't happen either... That's only fair, isn't it?
So for my birthday I wore my "little girl" dress, not so much in a deliberate attempt to look half my age, but because it shows who I truly am, a child yet to find her way in an adults' world.
