A.K.A. Three Genetic Traits My Kids Can Look Forward To
Do I talk about my hypothetical future kids far too often? Very possibly. But so help me, having kids before I die is like my number one life goal. It’s not my number one goal at this particular time in my life (or even on the radar as a reasonable option for the next 5-10 years), but definitely an eventual hope someday.
My comprehension of genetics is pretty minimal, but I do understand that, depending on the mother, some, none, or all of these traits may or may not carry over depending on various dominant and recessive genes and whatnot. But whatever. Not the point.
1. Absurdly slow aging
We Abels are like Benjamin Button, except instead of aging backwards, we just age forward really, really slowly. Almost to the point where it’s like we don’t age at all. Behold:
Age 17………………………….Age 19………………………….Age 21
That’s right. After age 17, we’re pretty much done. Presumably, by Age 30 I MAY be able to look 21, but that’s yet to be verified (my 30-year-old sister might pass for as old as 23).
Since I’m sure you’re wondering (if you’ve actually read this far) what sparked this topic at all, this trait is the big culprit. My beloved grandmother was coming to NC for a short stay so I took the day off from work to drive with my mother to the airport to pick up ol’ young Mamie. On the way to the airport, we stopped at a Farmer’s Market to pick up some strawberries and the woman selling the strawberries made the apt judgment that we must be mother and son based on our blue eyes and dark hair.
She then proceeded to ask how old I was (not sure why?), to which I answered 22 – since that is how old I am. The woman acted understandably shocked saying she expected me to say 16 or 17, most likely because I look 16 or 17. I then prodded her to honestly answer how old she thought my mom was with the knowledge that I was 22. She said 38. My mom is 55. And apparently she looks like she would’ve had a kid at 16. I don’t know if I’m more amused or disgusted by that thought.
But yes: Abels don’t age. Not very much at least.
2. Mutant Matabolism
I eat like a damn monster. Lunch today was three slices of pizza. Dinner was a Tons of Fun Burger (bun, pickles, cheese, 1/3rd lb. patty, special sauce, bun, cheese, 1/3rd lb. patty, pickles special sauce, bun) from Cheesecake Factory with a side of fries and a chocolate brownie sundae something or other (three triangular super-rich chocolate brownies and two scoops of ice cream) for dessert.
I am 6′1″ and weigh between 155 and 165 depending on the day. I am incapable of gaining weight. Period. It does not happen. If the mother of my children is anywhere near my size, my kids are going to be f*cking invisible. You know Samuel L. Jackson’s Mr. Glass character in Unbreakable? That will be my offspring if I somehow end up with some anorexic looking super-model.
I spend more money on food than anything else on a month to month basis, but you’d never know it from looking at me. I probably average 1,500 calories per meal, my job consists of sitting at a desk for 8 hours, and my general exercise regime in college consisted of walking from the parking lot to the classroom.
An added bonus of this is a seemingly small bladder, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly the fact that my body just seems to hate holding on to anything remotely reminiscent of nutrients for longer than half an hour.
3. Blue eyes
No, these aren’t really a super-power. At all. But two things does not constitute a list, so I’m using this as a third.
Both of my parents have blue eyes. All of my siblings and I also have blue eyes. All of this is somehow despite the fact that it’s a waaaay recessive gene and my grandpa on my Dad’s side definitely has brown eyes (not sure about my Mom’s father since he passed when I was pretty young). Super power? No. But still kind of cool because I feel like we kicked genetics right in the balls on this one.
