OK – I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow but suffice it to stay that I had a birthday Sunday. A Big Birthday. A not-so-wonderful birthday. And don’t tell me that age is all in your head and that you’re only as old as you think you are and that age doesn’t matter. Pooh-pooh.
I’ve never been affected much by birthdays. In fact was kinda proud that I was either ahead of the curve (important when I was a teen) or behind the curve (important when I was over 35). But 60. Well. I can’t be a midlife ADDiva any more. Can I? Does midlife include 60? I am panicked, slightly.
This birthday was kinda like menopause for me. I knew it was coming. I didn’t want to deal with it. I hid my head in the sand and finally, when it hit me smack in the butt, I read all the menopause books in one weekend and accepted the inevitable.
The same would apply to turning 60 but I didn’t find any books about it. Which leads me to think that perhaps writing a book about turning 60 would be apropos right about now…
So, I guess I am asking a tentative, quavery question: will you still let me be part of the tribe even when I’m not “midlife?” Oh that sounds ridiculous, even to me! Of COURSE you’ll accept me as I am…just as long as I accept me for who I am.
Instead of cowering in the corner, fearful that “they” will discover the truth about my birth year, how about standing up proudly and telling folks (ala Sally O’Malley on Saturday Night Live) ;
“I’m SIXTY. I like to KICK, I like to STRETCH. I like to KICK ’cause I’m SIXTY – SIXTY YEARS OLD!”