How old are you now?

I feel old.

It started when we were searching for a new financial advisor, which in and of itself is a sign that you are aging as you look to secure your retirement and future savings. The advisor, who looked to be at least my mother's age, mentioned that Justin and I had old Yahoo accounts. "Only people of OUR generation still hold onto their Yahoo accounts, no?" he said, laughing. I glared at him as I telepathically let him know that he had not gained our business. How was I to entrust my life's savings with a guy who was quick to make irrational assumptions, age me, and judge me over the course of an introductory "Hello." No sir!

Then, I was then getting my hair done the other day. I felt like I looked my best. After all, I had to stare at myself for upwards of an hour, so I figured I might as well make myself up for myself. No powder in my creases! Age spots covered! The stylist was a new one and started the conversation by telling me that she told her husband that she wanted to get "some work done." I nodded, listening. She proceeded to say, "I mean, when you are OUR age, we need to maintain our appearances.” 

Whoa. Okay. Again! What is it with people and judgments about age, bodies, and appearances? I was with her, respecting whatever she chose to do with her body, but I guess, well… I feel young, and when people make comments and assumptions about my age, I can't help but wonder, Shit! Do I look like a frumpy, middle-aged woman? Do I not recognize myself for who I am? Do I not see what other people see?

A few days later, I was sitting with a group of 20- and early 30-year-olds. We were having a conversation, or well, they were. I kept biting my tongue, holding back from sharing. I didn't want to be seen as that stupid older woman who was just trying to fit in. The thing is, I didn't feel like I was trying to fit in. I felt like I fit in, but that maybe the joke was on me. Maybe they were all quietly laughing at the few thoughts and comments I did interject. As we got up to clear the table we were at, one of the younger women said to me, "I want to talk to you and hear about your experiences when you were my age." And I thought, But! But? Aren't we the same age? No?!?

Who am I fooling? It's not as though I think I'm 20 (thank god!). I don't feel like I'm 20 (unfortunately!). But I also don't feel like it's that noticeable that I'm not 20. That sounds ridiculous, I realize, because we age. I’ve aged. I see lines that weren't there, and some features appear a bit sharper, others softer, but I'm still in there! The 20-year-old hasn't died. She, like all other ages, still lives within. I may have accumulated more years under my belt and perhaps more life experience, but it also feels trite because I think of this 20-year-old, and I want to be her when I grow up. Seriously.

Let me paint a picture. She has triumphed from a very difficult upbringing and established herself as an extremely talented artist and dedicated peer mentor. She's pursuing advanced degrees and just received her real estate license. She works and volunteers. I respect her talent, drive, and sense of responsibility and community. And she wants to talk to me about my experiences?!? Hell! I want to talk to her about her experiences and get some tips with the hopes that her sparkle will rub off on me. 

That's why this age thing is so funny... it just means so little. Yes, with age milestones come points of connectedness and commonality, but looking at the bigger picture, there is so much wisdom to be shared at every point along each of our journeys. I want to know about everyone's experiences and interests, whether they be seven, seventeen, or seventy. I want to be able to communicate across generations and learn from each.

I've never paid much attention to others ages, and I guess I'm miffed as to why it is such a topic of conversation. That said, I’m more miffed as to why I'm suddenly so sensitive to it, though I assume it has something to do with the fact that, for perhaps the first time, I am aware of my own age hovering over the halfway mark of one’s average lifespan.

With awareness comes a heightened sense of responsibility: to myself, to live the best life possible, and to my family and friends, to be the best person possible. It sounds heavy, though, though that's not the intention. The intention is the opposite: to ensure that I live mindfully, checking in with myself to ensure that I’m not tolerating bullshit, living authentically, and embracing adventure.

I feel old(er). That’s okay.