In a week I will turn 50. No big deal, I thought. Age is just a number. I don't feel 50, however it's supposed to feel. I feel young, except for my knees. I think young, and by this I mean I'm liberal-minded, spiritual but definitely not religious, and still very much open to trying new things, although with my age and experience new things are harder to come by. I think I still look fairly young. I'm not overweight or bald. In fact, I have long blonde hair down to my waist. Pretty girls still smile at me, though I'm old enough to take that as a signal to look to see if my fly is open. So what's the big deal about 50?
Well, for starters, it's half a century! AARP will start sending me junk mail. The only way I could get carded now is to prove I'm old enough for the senior discount. I saw a photo the other day of a man I used to work with. I remember him as he was over 25 years ago. Young, strong, barrel-chested. The photo now shows him bald and looking very very old. Seeing that photo was a splash of cold water in the face. I am getting old(er).
Well, time, fuck you! I refuse to age gracefully. I will remain as youthful as possible, in mind and spirit if not in body. I have a baby to take care of, with the possibility of another on the way (more on this in another post). I have clients who depend on me to help them with their disability issues. I have a beautiful wife and a terrific life. I'm ready, 50. Bring it on.
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