Dear 19-Year-Old-Me,

19 yr old me

Dear 19-year-old-me,

Last night I played softball for the first time in several years. It wasn’t pretty. And a friend who’s only slightly older than me went down hard with a pulled hamstring. I was not so unfortunate, although my hamstrings are screaming at me today. Which reminds me, who decided to call them hamstrings? I always picture a bunch of pigs playing stringed instruments when I hear that word—like a piggy string ensemble.

Today I had to take several headshots for some upcoming events. When I had the chance to review them, I was not pleased. I looked old and chubby. What happened to you, 19-year-old-me? When did these wrinkles around my eyes become so pronounced? When did my gut start poking out? When did hair start growing out of my ears and nose at a breakneck speed? When did I start grunting every time I stand up?

When did YOU become ME?

Last week I started performing interviews for an assistant. When did I become a professional, conducting interviews and searching for assistants? When did life creep up on me? When did I cross the line from boydom to manhood? It all apparently happened while I was sleeping, unbeknownst to me.

I thought I was still you, 19-year-old-me. But I’m not you anymore. Now I’m me. And I really, really, miss you. I miss your smooth, unwrinkled face and fluid joints. I miss your ability to eat everything and not gain a pound. I miss your hairless nose and ears. Makes me wonder what else happened while I was sleeping. Have I shrunk a couple inches? Did my IQ drop? If so, HOW WOULD I EVER KNOW?!?!?!? Have my fingernails stopped growing? Do I no longer love duck-billed platypuses? (We can safely rule that one out. I still love them.) This whole aging thing is scary.

So, how does one age gracefully? Seems like it’s an impossibility to me. An improbable equation. I will most definitely not be aging gracefully, but maybe you can. I will go down into the annals of life kicking and screaming. Of course, it probably won’t last long because I’m sure as I kick I will pull a hamstring while an ensemble of pigs plays Beethoven in the background. But I won’t be able to hear them. My hearing will be gone by then.

Aging Disgracefully,


13 Replies to “Dear 19-Year-Old-Me,”

  1. Dear 34 year old Darren,
    I took your class at the assembly this summer, and accidently almost bumped into you in the hall as we were hurrying somewhere in opposite directions. I didn’t notice your wrinkes, but your countenance, demeanor, sense of humor and smile. I mean, you don’t glow like Moses, but there’s obviously something there.

    Some old wise person once told me that every wrinkle and scar was something we earned through successfully overcoming in a battle or test. We age gracefully, by keeping our eyes on Jesus and not on ourselves.

    Not quite twice your age, but remembering when I was 34 and had less wrinkles, and more energy,

  2. I think you’ve got a few good years left! Remember my dad is still playing ball in his 70’s and my mom still believes she is 19!

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