I haven’t been a perfect square in 13 years, since I was 36, and after the next 365 days I won’t be a perfect square again for 14 years, when I turn 64 (“when I get older, losing my hair, many years from now…”).
Perhaps, though, I have always been a square, just not a perfect one. I’ve never really fit into round holes, after all.
I do like the idea of being a perfect circle. You know, no sharp edges, smooth to the touch, well-rounded.
On what birthday can I say I’m well-rounded?
Not 49, when I’m perfectly square.