I turned 37 two days ago. This was the first year I seriously considered starting to lie about my age, really felt my flagrant disregard for adulthood milestones. On the other hand, what am I, some kind of NORMIE?! Shouldn’t I be proud that I have given capitalist production and reproduction the runaround for so long? Maybe that’s going too far. My friend Erik told me on my 29th birthday that I could “pass for a hard-living 24,” so maybe I’m still just a stressed-out 32 in my soul.