Just for a lark yesterday, I entered one of those Facebook quizzy doodads. You know the sort of thing I mean: What is your IQ in Smarties? Read your true age through your posterial wrinkles! Guess your star sign through your own ear wax… That kind of malarkey!
This one promised to tell you how old you looked based on an online photograph – and, as if that weren’t exciting enough, how old your posts suggested you were.
With me so far? I ask because it took me a while to hoist this utterly riveting premise on board!
Now, I have never made any bones about my age (fifty-eight and three quarters as of tomorrow), so my expectation was that the photographic evidence statistic would be higher than the writing evidence. Frankly, I would’ve been more than happy to settle for mid-to-late forties on the former and mid-to-late thirties on the latter. I know I look younger than I am – but not by that much!
So, my vitals were well and truly stapped when the (obviously faulty!) calculator gave me an age, based on one photograph, of NINETEEN!
Nineteen?!! I wish! How utterly ludicrous. On a good day, with the light behind me and a favourable prevailing wind, I can look as if I am still in my forties (if only by the skin of my teeth) – but a teenager? Nope!
I know all the rumours about Capricorns: That we, as a breed, have this Reverse Ageing thing going on (allegedly), possibly to make up for the fact that so many of us resembled tiny nonagenarians when in our formative years – but there are limits. Ye gods, at this rate, I shall be more reminiscent of a foetus than a proper ‘uman bean by the time I reach sixty in fifteen months’ (and one day: very important, that one day!) time.
I know, I know, this all just goes to show how ludicrous these online ‘games’ are, and how credulous (and vain!) I am for engaging with them. Still and all, there was a tiny moment of, ‘Wow!’ going on in amongst the carpet-biting laughter and cameloid sneering.
But I have to end this with the vividly-remembered mindset (and consummate irony) of actually being a teenager – and the weird longing to look older, to look like an adult, to be an adult…
Why? Oh why?!
Just goes to show that youth really is wasted on the young!
Oh! And according to Mystic Medusa (or whoever was behind this latest Guess Yer Age stall at the Fair we call Facebook) my age based on my writing is thirty-six!
Superficial? Undeniably! But it made me laugh!