Now that my youth has officially been put behind me and God and everyone knows I am no longer in my thirties, I guess I should embrace my
age experience with grace and carry on. Good thing I have never been too concerned about numbers.
I have one friend who still cannot say the word "fifty" (unless it deals with money) without stuttering or having a spell. Seems she never thought she would age past her thirties. Only years of therapy and an affinity for gin got her through her forties. At the age of 49 and 364 days she sunk into a deep depression and it was if her cosmic universe had collapsed. For weeks we had been put on notice that numbers were not to be discussed.
But miracles happen, we avoided the rapture and on that 365th day the sun rose in the east. She rallied but only after her housekeeper, Consuelo, offered to get her a fake drivers license from her brother Hector that would show the date of birth ten years later and give her eternal youth. Ah, who knew the fountain of youth was so easily accessed with $10 and the help of a loyal retainer. And Ponce de Leon searched for years looking for that magical water - what do men know?
When her friends called throughout the day, they were surprised to see her so chipper. It was as if she had a new lease on life. One commented that she had feared the worse, but Mary Margaret seemed to be handling her birthday with grace. We must keep in mind all southern woman do know how to handle difficult situations. Mary Margaret just laughed, as she poured another gin martini, "Once I realized fifty is really the new forty I said to myself - just how bad can this be."
They all chuckled. I sat there thinking it is only a piece of paper. What difference does it make? We are all going to get old eventually. We may as well accept it gracefully and move on. However I am not ready to accept the gray hair yet, but that is just a minor issue. After all while most of this is out of our control, the color of our hair is not.