AARP, Here I Come.

I'm feeling old. Yesterday afternoon I came home from work in the blissful state of knowing that the week was more than halfway over. My guard was down; I didn't see it coming. But there it was. Addressed to "Kate P. and Guest" in her handwriting. I was offended. She doesn't know me. She can't call me Kate. That's reserved for intimates--she is not in the monosyllabic nickname club. It's Katie to you, little floozy.
This is the invitation to my high school boyfriend's wedding.
Mind you, there are no hard feelings between him and me. We broke up over five years ago, he was most certainly not the love of my life, and we stayed in touch throughout college, off and on. I care for him and want him to be happy. But Christ, getting married??
I opened the invitation. Stared at it. Turned it over and over in my hands. Put it down on the coffee table and glared at it. I went into the kitchen and got a beer. I drank it while looking at the invitation on the coffee table as though it was going to do something other than sit there and make me uncomfortable.

I needed to call for reinforcements. Picking up my cell phone, I dialed my best friend from high school, Lauren, who is currently studying for her Ph.D. in Political Science at Notre Dame. Bitch has been upstaging me since we were five years old, no joke.
Here's our conversation.
L: Hey!
K: Dude. Guess what I just got in the mail?
L: Ohmygod, something about the reunion?

Oh CHRIST. The reunion. How could I have forgotten? I have a high school reunion this year. How effing old am I? When did I stop worrying about my GPA and start worrying about how I was going to look at my ex's wedding and my high school reunion? When did I cross that line from being young to being so old??

I think I can honestly feel the formations of crow's feet on my face. I'm going to go google Botox procedures now.