You're only as old as you think you are

Wikipedia defines middle age as a non-specific stage in life when one is neither old nor young but somewhere in between. I have decided that I want to classify myself as being middle age. Technically, if I live to be 120 I really am just now middle age (give or take a year or two). Please don't misunderstand me, I don't have a hang up about age or getting older, but I do have a hang up with people who keep reminding me that I am getting older. For some reason folks have been pretty rough on me the past couple of weeks, and it's beginning to wear a little thin.

Being a California girl I have been attached to the sun and a tan all my life. I did the tanning bed thing for a jillion years and never took too seriously the danger warnings, but just to be on the safe side about a year ago I gave up the ultra violet light and went to a tan in a bottle (thus explaining my nicotine color legs and jaundice skin tone for anyone that might have noticed). A couple of weeks ago a strange little spot showed up on my forearm. I don't mind telling you that it concerned me a tiny bit until I found out what it was. My friend Mary Ann (a fellow sun lover) was sitting at her computer when I walked up and said "Look at this thing on my arm. What do you think this is?" Mary Ann's eyes hardly left her computer screen before she announced "It's an age spot." My reply came quick "An age spot! You've got to be kidding me! Well, obviously it has the wrong person!" I huffed, and, with that I turned on my heels and stomped off.

I knew the freckles on my hands were joining forces (soon there will be just one big freckle) which may be a slight sign of age, but an age spot on my arm, that's something else, entirely. I read these little things multiply like rabbits once they get started, so I was pretty bummed out about Mary Ann's diagnosis.

Last night we stopped at a fast food place and after placing our order I drove forward to pay. The young lady at the window stared at me for a minute (I think she was about 12 years old) and then said "Oh, I didn't give you a senior citizen discount, let me put that on for you." As we pulled out my spouse said "What was all that about, anyway?" I said (with a straight face), "Well, when we pulled up to the window, she saw your white hair and decided we were eligible for the senior discount."

"There's a lot of little clichés like you're only as old as you feel or you're only as old as you act but after a 12 hour work day sometimes I feel like I must be 90 and when the teen-agers at the mall are all congregated and immovable I might act like I am my real age. So, all of that aside, I think, you're only as old as you think you are. I think I am middle age. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.