Well hey-name the time and place, Crunchy.
Hell, I’m 24, and once in a blue moon, I’ve found tiny, super thin, little silver HAIRS in my CHIN! Just very rarely, but enough that it’s freaked me out. YUCK!!!
When I get old, I want to be like Sophia on The Golden Girls. I also plan to dye my hair in that silvery blue rinse. I love how that looks. It’s so cool.
I’ll be 25 on July 1rst. And quite frankly, there are days when I feel like I’m 5, and days when I feel like I’m 95. Whatta ya gonna do?
I started feeling old the first time a high school girl called me “sir”. 
Now college girls are starting to do it. :mad: And I am starting to think of them as “girls” in the sense of pat-them-on-the-head-and-give-them-a-glass-of-milk.
A few months ago, I was in the local mall. As I passed by the Victoria’s Secret store, I glanced up, and looked at a larger-than-life poster of a scantily-clad female they had hanging in the display window. I thought to mysylf, “In about ten years, she is going to be a really hot babe.” 
:eek:
Dagnabit, I’m only 36!
Old at thirty? Ha! Crunchy Frog, you’re just a tay-ad-pole. Young whippersnapper. Ha. :rolleyes:
30th Birthday? There’s a term for that: Spring Chicken. In far too few years, I’m going to celebrate my 30th birthday for the second time. Let the voice of experience 'splain something to you.
You know you’re getting old when:
…almost everything hurts and what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work right.
…you repeat yourself all the time and don’t make sense when you do.
…you argue with yourself and lose the arguments.
…a young hottie walks by, your pacemaker fires and the garage door goes up and down.
…you try to donate to a sperm bank but they insist they require live specimens.
…you are abducted by aliens, but immediately returned in favor of a living specimen.
…you repeat yourself all the time and don’t make sense when you do.
…you finally reach the top of the ladder and find it leaning against the wrong wall.
…your back goes out more than you do (oops, that’s probably a sore topic right now 
)
…the gleam in your eyes is from the sun hitting your bifocals.
… you quit chasing women. Not because you can’t catch them. you just can’t remember what you would do with them if you did.
…you repeat yourself all the time and don’t make sense when you do.
Hope this helps, ya young whippersnapper 
hands Crunchy a coupon for TrussesRUs
You’ll also need a hat - not a baseball hat though. A fishing hat. And one of those plastic oval change holders with the slit in the middle that looks vaguely vaginal. And pants that are about two inches too short. And NO NATURAL FIBERS!
Let’s see…I’m 25, still a good ways from the burning furnace of 30, but close enough to feel slightly warm. On the other hand, I do have a glorious mane of golden hair, free of any gray. <ducks> But then, I abstain from physical labor of any sort, so my shoulder would probably go out to if I tried to shag a few balls. So don’t feel too bad, Crunchy. One thing about old age, it is not discriminatory. It comes to everyone.
I had no idea you colored your hair. Does your hairdresser know for sure?