An argument for lying about your age
Me at the age my daughters are now
It’s my birthday today, and here’s a secret: I’m 43.
OK, it’s not much of a secret, because I am lucky enough to have tons of friends from childhood who know my age, my birth date is up on my Facebook profile, and what’s more, I have written here and elsewhere that I was 42 (when I was) and 41 (when I was that, until just over a year ago.) I am not above gilding the lily about many, many things, but to lie about something as irrefutable as the date you came busting out, covered with mucus and screaming bloody murder has always seemed to me rather pointless, not to mention futile.
Until now. (more…)
