Adulthood: In the Eye of the Beholder

I've always felt older than my actual age. Like now, I have to sort of remind myself I'm not 30 yet. I feel like I should be at least 32 by now, but I'm still rockin' the late 20s. I think it's because I've always taken on responsibilities that people my age normally don't (bringing a cheese company back from the brink at 25? check.), so I've often had a hard time reconciling my limited life experiences (purely based on my time on Earth) with my mind's age, if that makes sense.

But maybe my adulthood's catching up with me? I've been compiling a list in my head of little things that may actually be marking my descent (or ascent, I guess, depending on how you look at it) into *actual* adulthood:

1. Having a "tax guy." We bit the bullet and made an appointment with someone, not because I can't figure out a 1040, but because I've picked up some freelance work and want to make sure I'm planning for 2010 right and making smart decisions on my deductions. Plus, when we DO start farming for ourselves, we'll want to plan accordingly and have good-looking returns for lenders/investors. Whoa. See? Just blew my mind right there. And know how I'm really adult? I cringe at the fact that this guy charges my hourly salary squared, but then I'm cool with that because I figure it's better than getting hosed by the IRS.

2. Finding gray hair. Oh yeah, got the confirmation from my hairdresser herself yesterday. At first I thought maybe they were just blonde remnants from the Rachael Ray makeover (2 years ago, but you never know, right?!), so I pulled them just to get a better look. But yeah, the one that's left is *all* gray (which apparently means it's, like, a year's worth of growth?) and a totally different texture. I'm chalking it up to all that shit I went through over the last year. And, I'm totally rocking it! Since I've always felt older anyway, I just figure I'll be that distinguished woman with the silver bob... at 30. Then maybe the crazy checker at Raley's who acts like she doesn't know me even though I've shopped there for 5 years will finally stop carding me.

3. Wondering if you embarrassed yourselves and others by "getting low." Oh man. I so want to tell this story in another post. It so deserves its own post. Let me just say this: when you wake up the morning after attending a fundraiser for a youth swim team and ask each other, "were the kids dancing with us because they thought we were cool, or because they were making fun of us?"... that, my friends, is the true sign of aging.