See what's become of me.

And now?  Now I am thirty-three.  "You've got some greys back here, you know?" said the woman who cuts my hair, as she finished up with trimming my neck.  And indeed, I stand in front of the mirror, holding another mirror in my hand so that I can see the back of my head, and I see how inescapable they're becoming.  "How terribly strange to be seventy," sang Simon and Garfunkel.  I change it up: "How terribly strange to be thirty-three."