Turning the big 5-0
I was born on Feb. 26, 1969 at 8:03 p.m. in the Madison County Memorial Hospital.
Yesterday was Feb. 26, 2019. You do the math!
Yes, much to my surprise and amazement, I have turned 50 years old. Fifty is the age that when you were little, you used to think that it could never happen to you; for only old people were 50.
But then all of a sudden, one day you wake up and even though you still feel like you have the heart, enthusiasm and stamina of an 18-year-old, your mirror shares with you a much different message.
There’s no denying that 50 is a landmark birthday. A turning point. The Big One. But, amid the array of black balloons and all the jokes about adult diapers and memory loss I have decided to embrace the 50’s, just as I did the 30’s and 40’s. My age has never really bothered me; for it’s true that age ain’t nothing but a number.
Now, I’m not saying there’s nothing about my age that doesn’t bother me. There is that strange feeling of knowing that half my life is over, and my years of zest and get-up-and-go are possibly limited to the next 20 years. I now have to really focus on my bucket list and do my traveling before my body catches up with my actual age. There are also the telltale signs of aging, that my 25-year-old counterparts don’t struggle with … the lines in my face and under my eyes are looking more like a roadmap, my hands are starting to look like “an old woman’s hands” with the loose skin and pale blue veins becoming more prominent, my hair is turning gray (but I pay good money every five weeks so no one can see that), and the “fat-rolls” and “bulges” are harder to get rid of.
But, all in all, my body has been a good friend. It has endured years of dancing classes, cheerleading, gymnastics, tennis and softball. Its knees were skinned and bruised, stitches in its head, two wisdom teeth cut out, and it survived giving birth to two amazing daughters.
Age spots, wrinkles, and cellulite aside, I think what I have noticed most in my “old age” is I have become more philosophical and easy-going. I remember being in my late 20’s and 30’s and thinking my Dad had become such a softie. He didn’t get as mad at certain things that I wanted him to get mad at. But I find myself in that same position now; and I can honestly say my daughters feel the same way about me, during this time, that I felt about my father, back in the day. Not to say my Type A Personality still doesn’t take hold and run rampant at times; but I have learned to keep it in check better, in this stage of my life.
Even though 50 is just a number, there are certain things that this middle age does bring us…
• This is the year of the colonoscopy… with many years to follow.
• I am not able to lift as much weight as I did when I was 18 and in high school.
• I am not able to multitask as well as I could when I was 25.
• I am not able to remember people’s names as I stand and talk to them.
• I am beginning to run around the house looking for my cell phone while I’m talking on it.
• The realization that I truly am not able to do everything I used to do – I am not able to be in every organization and be president of so many different clubs.
• The realization that I am not able to do it all by myself anymore and I need to learn to ask others for help.
• I will, however, soon be able to get senior discounts at restaurants.
• I have learned the dangers of processed foods, that my parents used to try to warn me about.
I have more patience, understanding and wisdom than when I was 25.
• I can do “crazy” things now but I can do them with better knowledge and wisdom than when I was 18 and 25.
• Grandchildren really are the best and I wish I could quit work and become a stay-at-home-Glamma.
I’m 50! And I will wear it loud and wear it proud!
For, after all, age ain’t nothing but a number!