In Japan, there's a rather cruel term for single girls over the age of 25: Christmas cakes.
Why?
Because nobody wants Christmas cake after the 25th of December. But wait, it gets even better: beyond the 25th, those leftover Christmas cakes are left on the shelf, slowly rotting and becoming more undesirable by the minute.
Yeesh...
I quietly turned 27 in October 2014. I say quietly: there was a lot of cake and lots of friends and foam bananas (I can't believe I didn't write about that: long story short, my amazing colleagues bought me a kilo of giant foam banana sweets). I didn't really acknowledge my birthday on this blog though, even though I did document the birthday cake I made on Tashcakes! When I turned 25 I had a mild panic about my existence on this planet and basically had a short existential crisis, and at 26 I legally became a Lady of the Highlands (sort of). 27? A mild bit of panic again, although not as much as when I turned 25- only because it feels like I truly am on the wrong side of 25, now. No going back, of course. Only forwards, forwards, forwards.
I certainly don't feel 27 though, and apparently I don't like it either. I constantly get mistaken for a university student. Or, in the case of two weeks ago at the supermarket, even younger.
I help my mum do the food shop on most Saturday mornings, so the regular checkout ladies and gents will often recognise me with her and say hi. Two weekends ago, however, we were served by a kindly lady we'd never met before. All three of us were chatting about the Christmas and New Year period, when the checkout lady suddenly turned to me and said:
"And what about you, when do you go back to school?"
I blinked, not sure if she was joking.
"Or, er- college, is it?" She ventured. I laughed.
"Actually, I work now- but thank you for thinking I'm young enough to pass as a student!"
This made me feel at least a little better about myself (and also confirmed that people's reactions are of genuine surprise when they find out my age). My slightly inflated ego certainly had a pin put to it this evening though: I visited my regular bubble tea shop after dance class, and chatted a bit to the (cute) guy behind the counter. He handed me my bubble tea- I said thanks and have a nice evening- and then it happened.
"You too, ma'am."
... Ma'am?
Of course it didn't mean anything- what else should he have called me? (Except for nothing at all, grrr...) Alas, my overactive brain was thinking about it all the way down the road to the station. I thought, 'I know I look a bit tired from a long day of work and a bit worn out from dancing for two hours, but I don't look that bad, do I? Oh no, do I actually look older this evening? Have I finally passed my "sell by" date??' I drowned my sorrows in sweet tea and tapioca.
Most of my friends are married or about to be married, and some even have children now. All met their Significant Others at university or just after. The closest I've come to romance after university was being stalked by someone who I thought was a friend and grabbed at by a rickshaw driver. As for online dating, forget it, I'm nowhere near ready for that level of crazy: I have my few single friends to keep me entertained with their horrifying stories for the time being. To be honest though, when I ask myself if I actually need to be in a relationship and it if would improve my life, I have to answer: nah, not really. It's just a bit disorientating when old friends reach new milestones in life and you're, well, not. Then again, one person's progress is another person's stumbling block.
It's not really fair to put a "sell by" date on people, in any case. We are people, after all, not cake. Then again, think about Christmas cakes a little harder: they're steadily fed with alcohol to mature over years, so they just get better and better over time. Perhaps we should be taking this second metaphor a little more seriously than the initial one.
(Possibly including the part about the alcohol.)
