Forever Young

I feel like if we could all choose to grow up to a certain age, and then live at that age for the rest of our lives, life would look pretty interesting. Can you imagine having a grandparent that looks like they’re thirty-four your entire life? Or even being a grandparent that looks thirty-four? That’d be insane.

There would probably would be so many perks, like not having to worry about wrinkles and grey hairs and broken hips. Okay, maybe you can still get those things, but I feel like the worry about them wouldn’t be as drastic as they are while we age. I worry about my bad knee now, and I’m still basically a child.

But I think aging only to a certain point would be cool. It would definitely be interesting to find out what ages everyone chooses for themselves—especially since you know those who haven’t hit their mid-life crisis yet would most likely want to be twenty-one forever. Which is crazy, since by that age, you haven’t really experienced much. My entire twenty-first year of life, I experienced zero things. Sure, you do everything over time (and hey, you’d never have to get your own life insurance), but still. Twenty-one is too young.

People can live basically anywhere up to a hundred years old, and sometimes, even longer; how is a person supposed to choose one age to be for the remainder of their days? I, for one, have no freaking clue. I have certain ages in mind, but I just can’t stick with only one. That’s crazy talk!

I like the idea of twenty-seven. Besides the fact that I just like that number in general, I feel like that’s a good age for a person. You’re still young—and hopefully still hip—so you’ve done a fair share of growing up, but you still have time to grow. Because if you think about it, technically the younger you choose, the longer you have to be that age. Also, I think twenty-seven is a good time to settle down. And imagine raising kids at that age; you wouldn’t have to wish you were younger in order to run after them! It’d be great.

Thirty-five also sounds like a good age to be; you’re still pretty young, but [hopefully] you actually look like an adult by then. (There’s got to be some kind of hope for me…right?) For some people, they would have grey hairs by then, but hey—grey hair never hurt anybody. It’s only the weak that fear getting hair in the color of steel.

The rest of us embrace that shit.

I seriously don’t get the fear of getting old; in my eyes, it’s almost like a badge of honor, being able to age. Which is why the last age I think I’d be cool with being is sixty-five. Besides the fact that most of us can retire by then, I think actually finding out what you get to look like as an old person is cool.

Sixty-five isn’t exactly old per se, but I don’t think anyone is going to want to age to eighty-seven, and then just live like that for ten years, at the most. I would want to be able to move around without having to constantly hold somebody’s arm for support. Or one of those dreadful walkers. And I’d want to still be able to dance—hopefully without damaging any joints.

Yeah. I think being sixty-five for a while would be cool. Then I’d actually be able to look like an age appropriate grandma!

Prompt: What age do you wish you could permanently be?

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A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

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