So, tomorrow I have a birthday and for some reason this one has been bothering me more than others. I handled turning 40 easily, and even 50. I felt like I was a "young 50" and I was still holding it together really well. I had absolutely NO medical issues and was active through all those years. What a blessed person I have been. I know it. Don't get me wrong.
I'm still very healthy. Ok. The diagnosis of oestoporsis surprised me. And, I have a a curve in my lower back that causes me some pain sometimes and now my chiropractor and I have an ongoing relationship. But, all in all, I'm fit and lucky. I have good genes. I know to live with moderate exercise and moderate eating. It works for me.
But, for some reason this birthday number is annoying me. Is it because it's a "downhill slide" to 60? Is it because in my head I have thought to myself this age is really "middle age"? I'm no longer young in any spark of the imagination.
Do you remember when you were a kid and you went to family gatherings and the older relatives were in their 50's? SO OLD! ha! You thought you'd never be like them, talk like them, get set in your ways like them. Well... as my dad always has said "chronology is inexerable". Time marches on. You can't hold it back. So, now here I am.
I tell myself - oh, it's ok. I'm the cool older aunt, and I'm really not a stick-in-the mud mother. I LOVE being with young people. Sometimes I love my daughters' friends more than my own. They are fun and make me laugh. They have so much to get excited about still.
I do admit that aging has changed over the years. Especially for women. We color our hair and still wear fashionable clothing. It's hard to know a woman's true age anymore. Men can't hide it quite as easily. I find it interesting when I meet some of my lady friends' husbands because they usually look so much older than their wives. It's still not acceptable for men to color their hair, and to dress like a teenager. Ha! I just got a mental picture of a 60 year old man wearing low-riding pants, that are falling off his butt. No, that just won't work!
So, by this time, you are thinking "gee, Marla, get over yourself!" I know. Believe me. When
I do think for a few minutes about getting older I quickly tell myself that I have no right to complain. I am having such a lovely life! "When you got your health, you got everything!" "People love me for who I am on the inside, not what I look like on the outside." And, I think if I had a disease strike me, or I'm in an accident, then this post will be pretty embarrassing and trivial in the whole scheme of things.
I know. I know. I'm just saying... some birthdays are easier than others. Some numbers are fun to celebrate...18, 21, 30, even 40. Tomorrow is another day, and it's another year. I'm not going to sit and mope - or pretend it doesn't exist. Actually, I really prefer to stop and thank my parents. They are the ones that created me (with a little help from God), and started me out in life. I thank my "older" sister (ha! I always remind her she is the oldest!! Sorry sis!), and my brother. I was a bratty little sister growing up. You didn't have a choice putting up with me, but thanks that you did.
So - happy birthday to me! Happy day to celebrate where I come from... and to celebrate this day!
(Just don't ask me how old I am!?!)