I’m 26. I still feel like I’m seventeen sometimes though. That was a good year for me. Lots of spending money, no “real” responsibilities, lots of time for friends, parties, and having fun. Enjoy your youth everyone. Time flies and before you know it you’re almost 30! :eek:
Sure. I find I’m at the age where I want to do a lot of things but I’m not quite old enough to do so. 
I’m 18…
With 21 years of expereince at it.
I’m 27, will be 28 in October.
I actually had to stop and think this answer over. Not that long ago I said that I was 26 in an e-mail.
Guess it’s a sign that my age is no longer something that I focus on. Once you get past 18, there really is no other landmark age.
I’m 34, and I never ever ever forget. I used to look about 12, but since I had a baby, I now look like I’m about 25 (I often am still carded when buying alcohol). I work in a profession dominated by distinguished, grey-haired men. I’ve been trying to be older my entire life, just to be taken seriously. Of course to compound the problem, I sound like Lisa Simpson . . .
40 now, so no problem remembering, but occasionally, when I was in the 36 to 39 range, I would have to do the math. It felt very weird the first time that happened.
I’m 18, but I’ve been mistaken for as young as 15 and as old as 22. I think it all depends on my behavior at the time.
Damn you, I’m so jealous!
I’m 47, but retirement is more like a coupla decades off.
I’m 17 and 352/365ths. not being 18 is incredibly freekin annoying… all my friends are, leaving me out :o( “sniff”
The upside: My birthday party is gonna kick some ass!
I’m 20. I have more trouble remembering what year it is, actually…
…stupid smilies…
Eleven thousand, one hundred and seventeen.
Oh wait, did you mean years? 31 and change. Due for 32 in November.
I don’t think I’ve had much problem telling anyone else how old I am, but sometimes I’ve labored under the delusion that I’m still 30. My 29th was kind of a non-event so I probably keep skipping over it.
I was 37 in April.
My oldest daughter just turned 13, and there’s this little voice inside my head that keeps saying, “She’s 13! You are the parent of a teen-ager! How is that possible?!?”
I still feel pretty much the same as I did when I was 18 or 20 or so…except…it’s getting harder to get up in the morning; when I let my roots grow out, it’s grayer each time; my fingers hurt in the morning (arthritis already?); and I have started making that “Ugh” sound when I get up off the floor.
Where’s my Geritol?
I actually had this same problem from about 26 through 33, then my oldest daughter developed an obsession for knowing how old everyone is. So if I forget, I am reminded quickly.
On the positive side, I was carded at a concert last summer and my husband wasn’t. nah-na-nah-na-nah-nah
I’m 27, 28 in September. I sure have problems remembering how old I am. I perpetually tell people that I’m 28. I actually typed it into this post before correcting myself.
Legal…I mean, old enough to know better…Older than Mtv…Old enough to remember basic programming on a Commodore 64. I’ll be a quarter of a century old in September.
I’m 27. And I’ve had the stop-and-think problem since I was about 16. Makes you sound real bright, doesn’t it, when someone asks how old you are and you have to pause for some hasty mental arithmetic?
And then there’s the whole how-long-we’ve-been-together thing. My LO and I have a tradition: on our anniversary, we go out to a nice restaurant and then spend the whole meal trying to remember which anniversary this is, exactly. All around us, people are having significant conversations - business deals, marriage proposals, etc. - and we’re saying “Okay, now, let’s see. You graduated from college in…”
(To the best of my recollection, we’ve been together 8 years now. But that’s give or take a couple. And I am forbidden, under terms of Local Relationship Law, to try to figure it out until next February 14th - which is, I am sorry to say, our actual anniversary.)
I was 37 in June. My oldest child will be 7 in October. My youngest turned 2 in June. I envy you.
The wonderful age of Twenty (20)!
Firty.
At least, that’s what I say. I am 30, but damned if I can ever remember that.