Well, it happened. I have been talking and writing about it for months. The day finally arrived a couple of weeks ago. Yep. I turned 50.
The day came and went with minimal fanfare. I did receive many well-wishes in the form of calls, texts and social media posts. I even heard from a dear friend in Scotland telling me he and his family planted a cherry tree in my honor—my favorite! He promised to send a pic every year on my birthday. I hope to see it in person one day as well. I have a lot of truly great people in my life.
I spent most of the day at home knitting on my back deck soaking up the glorious sunshine. It was a beautiful day. I’m a turtle at heart. My husband made a lovely dinner and my daughter seemed to try extra hard not to piss me off. The dogs were particularly cuddly.
I have never had a ton of emotions surrounding milestone birthdays, even though I’ve had some good ones. I spent 21 at an Indigo Girls concert. On 30, a few friends threw me a surprise party. I have no recollection of 40. I was not drunk. I just didn’t do anything of note.
I’ve wondered for a while if 50 would hit me hard. It did not. I’m actually feeling pretty good about this birthday. It sure beats the alternative. Many friends have told me 50 is their favorite decade thus far. I’m hopeful to follow in their footsteps. My forties kind of kicked my ass.
In my mind, I have been 35 for the last 15 years. I feel that is my true age. Now, don’t get me wrong, I currently do stuff I didn’t do at 35. Just the other day I wandered around the house for 10 minutes looking for my glasses, only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see them sitting on top of my head. That same day, I literally laid my phone down then proceeded to roam the house looking for it. I certainly have my moments, but I’m not old.
I have decided I’m just not going to be old. I may get old, but I don’t have to BE old. One of my besties and I recently made a pact. We are just going to take each other out when all we have to discuss is our ailments. That’s friendship. Sure, we joke about aging, but when compared to our grandparents at our age, the difference is vast. Hell, I see pics of my Granny at 30 and would have sworn she was 50!
I credit pharmaceuticals and red wine for making 50 the new 30. Being active certainly doesn’t hurt either. Oh, and I don’t chain smoke.
I saw a meme the other day that said, “It’s weird being the same age as old people.” It made me chuckle. I feel that. I’m often shocked when I find out I’m the same age or even older than some folks. Do I look like that? Am I supposed to be wearing sequins to the grocery store? No, I do not want a reverse mortgage!
At the end of the day, I’m going to stick with my 35-year-old state of mind. I may now be a member of AARP, but I also subscribe to Rolling Stone. Wait. That is probably not making a strong case for my youth. Alas, it is what it is. This is MY 50.
Hit me up on social @kyspiritsgal! Can’t get enough of my nonsense? Check out my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com. Cheers!