So . . . I'm not 20. Or 28. Or even 30. I'm 39. I just had a birthday, so I'm well aware of my age.
In my head I'm, at most, 30. And I'm so convinced of this that I act on it. As in, I see a new, young, couple in church. I immediately think: Excellent! Friends for my husband and me!
I rush over to introduce myself, and as we are chatting I realize: OMG. I'm not their age. They're like . . . 25. Possibly 30. I should be inviting them to dinner so I can take care of them, not because I think I've found a new girlfriend that I can be BFF's with.
I do the exact same thing with my looks. In my head I look about 20. I'm all svelte and toned, lush locks and lean legs. Even when I'm sick? I think I'm adorable. Completely. My hair might be a mess, but in my head? It's Meg Ryan messy. And I looks *just* like her.
Then I pass a mirror and actually think: OMG, who is that? What? Me? No . . .
Then I laugh. At myself.