In the Leber family, “My Cousin Vinny” stands high on the list of favorite movies.
At lunch recently, my visiting father made reference to there being a bit of pressure on me, reproductively speaking. I pictured Marisa Tomei stomping her foot and yelling at her long-time partner about her “biological clock ticking like this” even before he mentioned it.
It’s amazing how quickly time flips, isn’t it? I could swear, it was less than a year ago that my parents seemed horrified at the notion of my having a child (no, this is not a column announcing my pregnancy). Now, at 31, I’m hearing about biological clocks and their friends’ grandchildren. I’m pretty sure the sentence “you’re not getting any younger” has been bandied about on several occasions.
This is true. No one is getting any younger. The clock is, indeed, ticking. Provided I’m as healthy as my doctors seem to think I am, however, there are no alarm bells clanging at this particular point in time.
At least, this is the case as far as physiology is concerned. Mentally/emotionally/sociologically, however, we seem to have an obsession with time lines.