You’re an innocent, curious, obedient child.
You’re a filthy, rebellious, liberal, obnoxious, non-conforming adolescent.
Toned down, but too preoccupied with modern work and partying to give a shit about anything or start a family.
Finally married with spawn, no longer rebellious and respectable by society. Still attractive even though you’re not really young.
You’ve crossed the line, aged horrifically on your 40th birthday, respectable people of society but with a sadness that your children are 10–19.
An extension of 40–49, bored with life and your deteriorating spouse.
Light at the end of the tunnel! You’re not an aged young person but an old person! Grey hair suits you. You’re starting to have grandchildren and your spouse is as happy as you are.
You’re not as able as you used to be, but you’re still in good mental health, you’re more happy about being around for your teenage grandchildren than hating their guts.
You would be a lot happier if you were as fit when you were young but your happy-go-lucky attitude brought by old age overcomes that. You like reflecting on whatever war you fought in and won’t let your limited company forget it.
You’re experiencing the cycle of life by witnessing your great-grandchildren and somehow you haven’t noticed your own good health and mental stability at such a huge age.
You are a fucking legend, you spend hours on Facebook and drive motorcycles on the wrong lane on purpose, you skydive twice a week.
After your second adventurous stage of life, you’re relaxing at your retirement home, forgetting the names of your indeterminate amount of descendants as well as why you’re there. You’re probably gonna die peacefully in your sleep, and TomRed might mention it in his blog.
You’re Jeanne Calement.