Old.

During a routine stop at Target this past Friday night, I wandered over to the face products to check out a new moisturizer... and eye cream.  Hey, it's never too early to prevent, right?

So as I'm debating between L'Oreal's YouthCode line and my regular Garnier, I hear "Are you looking for something in particular?"  I turn to my right to see a young, springy blonde sales associate who is spreading the word about a lesser-known line that I've honestly never even noticed on the shelves.

I am one of those people who cannot say no to someone who's offering help, even though I really just wanted to browse in peace.  "Oh, well... I'm looking for a new night moisturizer and eye cream, but really just browsing for now.  Thanks though!"

A few minutes passed as I browsed (I'd inched my way the opposite way down the aisle) and I hear "Would you like to try a sample of one of our products?"

Now, I may like to shop alone, but I'm ALL ABOUT a free sample.  

"Okay sure, why not."
"Wonderful!  Do you mind if I ask your age?"
"I'm 27."
"Okay, let's check out the products from our anti-aging line."

What... the hell.

When did 27 become old?!  I'm not aging (yet).  I like to think I'm making good moves by prepping my skin now for what's to come down the road.  But WHAT THE HELL.  I think I subconsciously blacked out for a moment as I tried to process the fact that my age is now factored towards being of the older age.  

Am I in denial?  I know I'm not a baby anymore, and there was something admittedly a tiny bit daunting when I turned 27-- it's officially "late 20s," and although the thought of turning 30 in three years isn't scary, the thought of leaving my 20s kind of is.  

Ah, well-- it is what it is.