I was looking through my facebook this morning, and I had an interesting thought. It’s not a fresh thought, just an interesting one.

When I first heard of FB, I didn’t pay much attention. I’m not much good at networking, so doing it online could only be a very, very bad idea. So I ignored about ten invites before my brother forced me to join – by posting pictures. When your siblings are halfway across the world, and you haven’t seen them in years, and they post pictures, well, let’s just say it’s quite effective blackmail.

May I also say that I’ve successfully ignored invites to join a million other SNW sites. Strange names like Doostang and Tagged and Naymz and Linked In…I think I may have joined those last two, forgot my password though so…

It took a while to get facehooked [my kid bro declared me simply too old] but it finally got me. I snoop the site about 5 times a day now. Hate the new one – too much bandwidth. But I’m definitely hooked.

So. I was using the ‘people you may know’ feature, and saw a lot of familiar faces. But see, I have a problem. I was told – by many people – that I was a very precocious child. One pal even told me she can’t imagine me as a kid. She thinks I moulted full grown. We were 13 when she said this. And I still laugh when I remember it.

Anyway, granted, I was pretty mature as a kid, and I’ve stayed exactly the same. Not to say I’m mature, but I’m exactly the same now as I was at 5, or 8, or 13. Give or take a few extra pounds of…padding. Which is curious for several reasons.

One, I have the same attitudes and opinions I had then. Which means I remember the kid who called me charcoal girl, and the boy who named me Blackula, and the kid who stole my bike, and the roommate who dissed my little brother. And I hold grudges. So when they ask me to friend them on Facebook…let’s just say if thoughts could kill, well, it’s a good thing they can’t.

Another thing is, I remember what these people were like as kids, so when I see them now, I get wowed. I am tickled when I see them doing pally wall-to-walls with people who terrorized them, or reminiscing warmly with people they hated. I see picture posts of reunions among kids who would not be found dead together, and I get amazed, and sometimes amused.

Plus it’s pretty cool seeing how the tomboys and ugly ducklings turned out. It’s so true what they say – you can only be beautiful once. So most of the gorgeous little boys now have average looks and receding hair, the buckteeth reed-thin girls are beauty queens, and the 5 over 10 boys can so make you drool. Of course there are a few exceptions that are predestined for eternal gorgeousness, but I’m not naming names – I don’t have a lawyer yet so can’t go getting sued here!

With girls it’s no big deal, coz all you need is a wonderbra, a corset, a stylist, and a make-up pro to go from Naz to NAZIZI [check out her latest album cover!!] But with boys it’s more interesting, watching the long-legged, shaggy-haired, ever-dirty rugrat turn into a supermodel of Shemar Moore-esque proportions. Yes, I have someone specific in mind. No, he does not have RSS, I think.

I see former holy-joes passing drinks and cursing themselves blue, and all I can say is ahem ahem. I see the baddest of the bad boys being all sweet and gentle and it’s like twilight zone, phase two. I see the class blots holding fab jobs, reading Oprah books and donning Versaci, while the class genii de-score the IQ tests and I’m like oooookkkaaaaay.

Worst of all, I talk to some of these people and can’t stop giggling. Some are jazzed that I ‘haven’t changed’, others are shocked at ‘WTF has happened to me’ coz they had this alien image of me [that I shall not describe here, lawyers and all]. Where they got it, nobody knows. At least one person is terribly disappointed that I’ve turned out so blonde. And no, it’s not the hair.

I sometimes feel like I’m a kid [again], or that I’m aging backwards. Though technically, I can’t say again, coz sometimes I think I was never really one. I think I was so busy being all grown up that I forgot to be small, and now, I’m making up. So while my pals are into coffee bars and neo soul and jazz, dressing up and being all hotshot, I’m content with my kapuka, Supreme’s ngoma za kulialia, teen rock, candy, little-girl skirts, and lounging on the beach. My girls are in powersuits and high heels, I’m still clinging to tshirts, sandals and jeans. I did have a phase a few months back when I thought I could pull all that off…thank heavens it passed before I bought anything!

A soon-to-be-newly-wed sat me down recently, after a botched shopping trip where I sneered at every top she chose for me. I mean really, shirt dresses? Eeew, with all those frills and bows and sheers! Bury me in that and I will haunt you for life. Maybe if I could wear them without the… the-opposite-of-topless…but only at home. Of course she was totally exasperated. ‘We’re at an age where we need to outgrow this look. College tshirts and denim is so nineties.’ That’s as much as I heard before I shot up dagging to Ocean Avenue’s love is a lie. I so love my air guitar. Need to get me a real one soon, but not on Plot 8. I’d get thrown out.

Ladies are all accessorized and haired up, am stuck on the unrebellious, unethnic, low maintenance, i-can-wear-it-when-i-swim look. People are driving and spinning while I’m happy to be walking and dreaming. Fancy weddings are spilling while I’m happy with burgers, pizza, and a certain [extremely gifted] online lay. I do have a funky job-title, and a laptop, and a daughter, so that’s something

It looks like everyone grew up but me…:)

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