|Laurie Roma posted this on my Facebook Wall yesterday. HA HA!|
Yesterday was my birthday. Wahoo! I've reached the ripe old age of 39. And I'm not trying to be coy - I really am 39. Next year I might be 39 again, but I haven't decided yet.
My husband has an aunt who's been 29 since I met her eighteen years ago. At that point I think she'd already been 29 about fifteen times. Her daughter is now 7 years older than she is. I always thought she was a bit odd, even though I know she's not the only woman who does this. I don't know why we insist on lying about our age. I could understand it when we were 18 and hoping to buy beer or get into a club. My parents are in their early sixties and they'll say they're 65 so they can get the senior's discount. Those things I can understand. But if I were to go around proclaiming that I was 29, everyone would know I was full of shit. Either that or I wasn't aging well and looked much older than my years.
|Shh! They'll never know I'm not 29!|
(Image from freedigitalphoto.net)
In June I was transferred to a new work location, and in chatting with my new colleagues, I mentioned that I have a twelve year old son. One of the other women looked at me and said, "Really? You don't look old enough. I thought you were about my age." She's 31. Talk about making my day! I like to think I look younger than I am (and I'm not posting a pic because that might give away my secret identity) but that was a significant difference. 31 is only barely out of your twenties! It helps that I've been lucky enough to avoid a lot of grey hair. Some friends have been using Nice 'n Easy since their twenties.
Why is it so hard for women to admit their age? I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with the constant bombardment of ads for anti-aging products (which I don't use). Women are just terrified of looking older. You know what scares me about aging? It's not the wrinkles, or the facial hair that seems to be occurring more frequently. It's the fact that I'm not as agile as I used to be. I have aches and pains that I didn't used to have. I worry about losing my mobility or about not being able to play with my grandkids. I worry about my heart, or cancer. Will lying about my age or buying whatever new cream is out there stop those things? Nope.
Hubby's aunt can barely walk. Her health hasn't been good, and saying she's 29 hasn't given her a more youthful mentality. In fact, she acts like she's in her eighties. I really don't understand what she hopes to accomplish. Granted, now that the big 4-0 is right around the corner for me, maybe my attitude will change. I guess we'll see. In the meantime, I'm going to embrace my 39ness, keep an eye on my health, have sex as often as possible, and try not to get stuck in a rut that might lead to a mid-life crisis.
|Image from freedigitalphoto.net|
How about you? Do you lie about your age or are you happy with the number of candles on your cake? I'd love to hear what other people think!