Getting Old

As I type away, my stomach is still protesting from the super-heavy breakfast / brunch that I had about five hours ago. Aside from the delicious meal, I had a good four-hour-catch-up with a lovely friend at a lovely cafe. We had perhaps not seen each other for about three, four months? 

I am a carbo-fanatic; especially bread. I love hot bread that comes fresh out of the toaster and oven. I can eat them plain with no spread; toasted is good enough for me. Of course, I would also welcome a chocolate croissant anytime. The smell of freshly baked bread has this comforting effect on me. 

The selection was not as wide as Paris Baguette, another cafe that I went with another good friend just the day before, but it was good enough for us. Perhaps no breakfast set for us the next round; we both agreed the set was pretty normal. I rather stuff myself with the chocolate croissant. 

It is the end of the year, and the topics usually do not stray too far away from the year that is about to pass, and what do we look forward for the new year. As we chatted, I had to somehow admit I am getting older; not just from the numbers that are adding to my life-scale, but I am starting to feel the differences. 

I sleep lesser, my food portion is smaller but somehow my waistline is increasing because my metabolism is slowing down. I get tired earlier too. When hubby and I started to date, I used to be able to hang out with him and his friends till 2am, 3am when we were back in his hometown. Nowadays I do not join him for his buddy sessions; the bed always emerges as the winner. Yoga is sort of sharing more of the exercising sessions with my jog - a clear sign that my body is asking me to slow down.

The changes occur not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Nowadays, I find myself bubbling with happiness when I check the savings account and see the miserable interest credited end of the month. Or the minuscule savings off the daily necessities can keep me happy for the rest of the day. I sometimes find myself collecting coupons to redeem the WMF knives at supermarket. My topics with some of the girlfriends are also slowly shifting to comparing prices of washing detergent or shampoo. I am also totally guilty of worming up at home during the weekends, and not catching up with friends. The quietness on a Saturday afternoon is pure heaven. No noisy kids, no train rush and no pushing at the supermarket. A cup of hot tea, a book or surfing with my Mac would always be my choice to spend my afternoon. 

Yes, I think I am getting old. 

But I love it!

I am not all depressed by these changes. I am not one who would open up immediately, and I am, most of the times but I hope not all the time, being mark as the aloof and unfriendly. In the past, this used to bother me, and with the age adding up, it kind of turns the other way. I would love everyone to like me, but I am also happy to be left alone. So being closer to the big "4" sort of gives me the right to be less bothered? After all, don't we all say there comes a time when only the family and close friends matter the most. 

I always felt like 30s when I was in my 20s because somehow my train of thoughts did not really gel with the 20s of my time. In my 30s, I finally feel more in sync. I learn to keep and finally have a fine inventory of friends who I can see walking the rest of my path with, friends who understand me, friends who have the same values and friends who care. 

I kind of look forward to the 40s because my life is on track. All I need to do is to do what I am supposed to do; this belief has always keep me grounded throughout the years. I cannot control the outcome, but I make damn sure I do what I am supposed to do, so that there would be as little regret as possible. 

After all, there is only one 20s, one 30s, one 40s. And there is only one life. 

Cheers to the middle age!