And so... I discovered this week that I probably have a receeding gumline too.
This discovery is part of a long line of signs that I have noticed over the past 18 months, that is signalling to me that, well, I'm growing old. I am about to hit my big 4-0 this year, and indeed, while in spirit I don't feel middle-aged (OMG, did I even use this word on myself?), my body is certainly showing me signs of wear and tear.
It started with me noticing that a freckle was growing bigger and realising that that ain't no spring chicken freckle, but a full-on grandma liver spot.
Then, it was a verticle line in between my brows, that didn't go away, even after I stopped frowning at misbehaving youngsters.
The single white hairs on my head then decided to get married, and started giving birth to colonies of baby white hairs.
The tequila double shots that I used to take with glee, suddenly became time machines, transporting me to the next morning, where I would be lying in bed, wondering gee, how did I get home?
I also started to rather enjoy playing with my eyes, by alternating between looking at far away things and near things, to see how instead of a gradual focus, my vision would take a split second longer to snap into focus.
All these I took in with mild detached curiousity, and had half hearted attempts at making these inconveniences go away. I bought some home hair dye and forced my mum and sister to help me dye away the white hair colonies (btw, the comb through formulations offer the best coverage!) . I bought a couple of whitening lotions and potions in an (in) vain attempt to magically will the liver spots away. Concerned friends bought me supplements to cleanse my liver, but I continued to used the excuse of "growing old" to feign moments of memory laspes and poor judgement calls.
And yet, it was the discovery of periodontist, of receeding gumlines, of being long in the tooth (!) that jolted me out of my complacent denial of growing old. I started to google search on receeding gumlines, and yes, right up there for causes, it was indeed, growing old-er (as Mayo Clinic so nicely puts it). I sprinted out of my apartment and in spite of achy joints in need of glucosamine, I made it to the pharmacist in 10 mins (actually just an elevator ride downstairs).
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