eHow to know when you're old

ok. so. i know i'm not "old" but i'm now like a full on adult because this happened:

i joined the gym. ha, ha, not really. i mean, i really did join the gym but that's not how i know i'm old. i went to re-join my gym after dropping the gym when i started bikram yoga which is like the most expensive thing ever besides cocaine and it was taking about four (4) hours out of my day every time i went because it's so freaking far away from where i live and there's like a lot of traffic both ways. so there's my excuse. MAN! i miss that hot, hot room!

anywho, i went into the gym and said, to a very eyelined gal, "hello! i'd like to join again? is there somebody here to...?" and she said, "yes! denise can help you!" and so i go into denise's office. a very small lady with a very small nose starts talking non-stop for like forty minutes about all sorts of gymy related stuff while typing my info into her computer and talking to her computer when she messes up. then she asks, "and how old are you?" and i say, "tweeenteeeee? eight?" because i just had a birthday and she said, "oh! you just had a birthday!" and i said, "ha, ha, yeah..." and she said, "you do NOT look twenty eight! oh my gosh!"

fine. thank you? is that what i'm supposed to say? thank you? because 28 is fuckin old and almost dead, right?

then she says, "that's my daughter at the front desk! she's twenty and she hates being told she looks younger!" is it weird that i was all like then why did she call you denise? why didn't she say, "go see my mom!" weird. calling your mom denise? that's not what i call my mom. i call her janice. and although that's not her name, it's better than denise. unless YOUR name is denise then it's totally cool.

what was i saying? right. this "denise" chick was just floored that i am, currently, twenty plus eight years old. (this "denise" chick was prolly mid-forties). and so after we did all the gymy things that needed to be done, we went up to take my picture. which, according to "denise," was "only for the system database" because apparently she thought my hair looked like shit today! jesus christ denise! i woke up a little late! my hair needs tender loving care and i had to phone it in this morning!

scene of the crime... aka the gym... aka i'm a crazy person.

so she shows me to the front desk to "take my payment." and "take my picture." my horrible, horrible picture. and she says to her alleged daughter, "HOW OLD DO YOU THINK SHE IS?" and the alleged daughter says, "uuuuuhhh, tweeenteeeeee.... three?" denise says, "NO! SHE'S NOT! she's twenty EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!"

this is where the story gets hard to tell... *wipes old tears from old cheeks*... the twenty year old eyelined, surly girl who hates me (i assume)... opens her mouth in shock, looks at me, pauses and says, "oh! my! GOD! NO! twenty eight? no."

she didn't say it in a way that would make anyone think she was trying to be complimentary. she said it in a way that implied that she was truly amazed someone could still be carting their twenty eight year old ass out in public. to be seen, by the public. passing herself off as a 23 year old. the very nerve of me and my sneakiness.

and that's the time becky decided to kill herself because, obviously, to do so would rid the world of one impertinent becky. because nobody needs to see that. in public. MY EYES!