As I embark on my final year of college with hopes of graduating in May (if all goes according to plan), I am developing an awful feeling. A feeling of great remorse and annoyance. A feeling of a receding hairline and nursing hangovers for two days instead of two hours.
I feel old.
After attending a party during the first week of school, a friend turned to me and said, “Spencer, this is the first time you’ve ever looked old.”
Naturally, I felt I should have cut him off with some witty comeback, but I could only mutter, “Damn, I feel old.”
How could I not? Everyone around me was born in either 1992 or 1993.
I’d bet money that many of my fellow senior peers know exactly what I’m talking about — and to you freshmen and sophomores: the day will come when you might have to add rubbing foamy Rogaine into your scalp every morning to your daily routine.
And don’t think you’re excluded to this “senior” feeling, ladies.
Just wait until that gent you’ve had your eye on for weeks goes for the hot young freshman who hasn’t gained that dreaded 15 yet.
Dealing with this is just like the grieving process.
First we’re in denial that we reach the age of 21, then anger sets in once we realize we’re nine years away from 30 and we all know there aren’t any more fun rites of passage after turning 21(we do get lower insurance for rental cars at 25, though).
Then we bargain with God, saying, “Maybe if I lose 15 pounds or rub this smelly foam in my scalp to sprout young hairs I can look and feel 18 again.”
After the realization that time will keep ticking despite our desperate efforts in finding the fountain of youth, the spiraling depression sinks into us.
But as we all know, the final stage of the grieving process is acceptance.
Accept the fact your hair will thin, gray or fall out and that you might have a slight beer gut after four years of college (five or six years for some).
Also, accept the fact that gravity will eventually take over your life, ladies. Sorry.
But hey, even though some of us feel old, remember that we are still college students and still have time to bask in what youth we have left in us.
As cliché as it may sound, we will never return to our college years nor get to experience the confusion, exploration and reckless fun of our late teens and early twenties ever again.
So I ask you to do this for me before you’re working a nine-to-five job with a spouse and kids: ball out your senior year of college and have the time of your life. And to underclassmen, don’t wish your college life away because it blurs away before you know it.