HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

I am 57 years old today. Never felt the need to lie about it. Well, I have considered lying. I would like to tell people I am 70 so they would go on about how amazing I look. I never expected to see 57. Never wanted to, to be honest. I remember the cries of ‘don’t trust anyone over 30’. Jack Weinberg, who coined the phrase, turned 60 way back in 2000. So somehow being old did not appeal to me. And I thought the whole sex, drugs and rock and roll thing would take care of that for me. Add in the booze and cigarettes. Who knew I would have the Ozzy Osborne/Keith Richards Gene. But things change.  Got married. Had kids. Well you have to stick around until they are 18. Okay, until they finish college. Launch them into the world. Now I want grandchildren to play with. So I have to stick around for that. As I get older, I find the bar for what old is keeps getting raised. When I was a wee lass in kindergarten, I thought my teacher was ancient. She was 21 after all. My husband is 71. Not a wrinkle. Works out in the gym 5 days a week. So certainly not old. I suppose it’s all good as long as your mind is sharp. And then when your mind goes you don’t know it anyway. If I reach 77, I will probably be saying, “Look at Ethel, 97 and still line dancing and winning at Trivial Pursuits. 77’s not old.”