Column!

If I had a time machine, I know exactly where I'd go first.
I'd set it for the summer 2005, at a wedding for our good pal in Colorado. Exact moment: an hour after the reception, when several of us were hanging out in a side room.
Something was said there – or I should say, it was almost said – that has invaded my brain ever since.
Many of the people in the room hadn't seen each other in about a decade; we were all friends in Seattle at one time. After the wedding, we sat around laughing about the good old days. The groom's older brother then looked at me and said something to the effect of, "You haven't aged."
Of course, that's the best thing anyone could ever say. It's like the jackpot of all compliments. So I beamed and thanked him, suddenly very giddy by this turn of events. He continued.
"Do you know why I think that is?" he asked.
"No, why?" I replied. Rapt with curiosity.
"It's because –"
At that second, someone came up behind him. The subject was changed. Part of me considered changing the subject back a few minutes later, but I figured this would make me look, well, shallow. ("Yeah, yeah, the groom plays a mean guitar, it was a lovely wedding, blah blah blah. Now WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO SAY ABOUT ME?")
My husband was there, so I later asked him what he thought he was about to say. "I don't know," Mike said. Followed by the thought, "And I don't really care." (Yes, I can read his mind.)
So I let it go. No big deal. Except that it sort of haunts me now.
This makes it seem like I'm obsessed with looking young. I'm actually not; I barely remember to take off my makeup at night. I have no anti-aging routine.
Actually, having no routine is my routine. I'm banking on the theory that something I'm doing at random will turn out to be good for me. "Study: Eating popcorn keeps wrinkles away." Or "Scientists say makeup that's left on at night guards against fine lines." I basically hope to defy age by lucking out.
Which is why I'm so curious about what that guy was going to say. Maybe he had some brilliantly wacky theory to impart! Or maybe not; back then I was more trim than I am now, so that could be it. This is what I always think as I struggle to zip my pants.
Other days, I'll look at my teeth in the mirror and think, "I need to get them whitened." Pause. "Maybe that's what he was going to say." Or I'll get out the blow dryer and think, "Maybe he was going to say it's the red hair."
The other morning, as I grabbed the scissors to cut off stray hairs from my chin, the thought appeared again: "Maybe that was it. No chin hairs."
Yes, my life is now an Unsolved Mysteries episode.
I'm hoping that dwelling on this one question, opining about the elusive answer, will keep me spry. Then again, perhaps all of this dwelling will cause me to age. Curses!
After I told my friend about my mystery, she asked why I can't just call him and ask what he was going to say. Um, no; he probably doesn’t even remember saying it. It’s not like we were even sober at the time.
My friend's theory is that he was going to say it's because I laugh a lot. Which I do; guilty as charged.
But I don't know; I still think it was the weight, which I have more of now. Or maybe it was the lack of gray hairs, which I also have more of. So if we happen to get together now, those same pals might see me and say, "Hmm, she sure has aged."
At that, I would turn to the one guy, grab him by shoulders and ask, "Why Do You Think That Is?"
But this time, I wouldn't leave without an answer.