I work on aging. Specifically, ways to ensure healthy brain aging to stave off neurodegenerative disease. Maybe this career direction suggests a preoccupation with aging? Maybe here’s why.
I’m taking to my Mum on the phone.
MUM: How’s the gluten free stuff going.
ME: Great. I feel a lot less bloated and it’s not difficult to do.
MUM: Yeah, because at your age your gut starts acting up. I remember a consultant saying to me about Nan “all old people become obsessed with their guts” and I came to realize as I got older that actually your gut does ruin your life.
Then follows a 5 minute monologue about how my Mum got podgier around the middle as she got older and how her gut is ruining her life.
ME: But I’ve always had this bloating. Even when I was at Oxford (and henceforth rowing and super-fit), even at Keele (and aged 18-22).
MUM: Yeah, but you find it gets worse now you’re older.
After the phone call finishes I walk to the living room where my husband sits eating a sandwich.
ME: I swear my Mum thinks I’m 45-years old.
HUSBAND: You’re only in your low thirties.
ME: I’m 37 this year.
HUSBAND: Shit, you’re old *chokes*.
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