People always tell you that your 30s are distinguishable by the discernible presence of sag, but this isn't true, really. It's more like your 30s are punctuated by the involuntary clicking sounds that your body resorts to.
My knee has been making strange clicking sounds for a while now, but there was a morning last month when I woke up to a click in my jaw.
And then yesterday my breastbone, that space that usually does nothing more than frame a locket or a pendant, made a particularly rude click. It was alarming to even those around me.
I think aging is separate from the slow movement of time, it's not like all of a sudden you're 40 as much as it is punctuated by small shocks like finding your first gray hair.
In other words, aging isn't a slow drip south as much as it is (what feel like) sharply inappropriate reminders from your body that it has decided to move in a particular direction - forward, I suppose, the only real option it has.
Like this: it isn't a frog in a pot and you keep turning the temperature up ten degrees every five minutes.
It's more like this: the water boils, the frog jumps in, then jumps out scalded.
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