Little lies

I'm not sure when the mental switch went off in my brain, but I have come to the creeping realisation that I am rapidly approaching old. Maybe it's all my friends not only getting married, but having kids (I know of 5), or that hanging out with 19-year-olds requires a different set of references. But 30 is there, a not-s0-distant speck on my horizon. (I see Domestic God's impression of the 30-Vortex now, and it makes me giggle).

Don't get me wrong. I am very excited about my upcoming birthday, not particularly because I relish being that much older, but because I am really done being 27.

So yesterday, as I chatted with the sales chyck at Ruby Room, purchasing my awesome patches (wearing one today, feel great, smell even better), she mentioned that she knew people my age in Charlottesville. "How old are you? 24, 25?" To which I replied "25." Which is not outrageously wrong. I just felt dirty for accidentally becoming one of those females who lies about her age. I can't believe I just became a cliche.

Another little "lie". I prefer saying "Happy Holidays" to "Merry Christmas". That part is true, but somehow, it feels like a lie. I celebrate Christmas, but I am not going to presume that everyone does. Some people hate Christmas, but love the idea of Holiday as days off from the routine. And there are a BUNCH of holidays between now and January. Take your pick - Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, Festivus for the Hipsters. Celebrate a few if you are ambitious. I like Happy Holidays because it is cheery and inclusive. Seasons Greetings sounds generic and cold.

But I have noticed more people humming "Christmastime is Here" lately. Nice, since it is probably my favorite Christmas carol. And largely agreed to be one of the least annoying (as surveyed by the Trib).