Gasp. I’m 19.
Since no one has randomly asked me how old I am since December 19, it hasn’t really struck me yet that I’m another year older.
Usually, that flash of clarity comes when someone curiously inquires about my age, and I start to say my old age, then realize that I am, indeed, one year older.
So please, if you happen to see me on the street or run into me in Wal-Mart, do me a favor and ask how old I am.
Reality needs to set in.