You can 'chose' not to grow up, but you have no choice in growing old. It just happens, whether you like it or not. I'm not ashamed of my age and quite honestly don't give it much thought unless someone makes that tacky old age comment "Wow, you look good for your age!"
What exactly does a 47 year old woman look like? White haired? Been there. Missing teeth? Done that! Wrinkles? Bingo! Over weight? Heck, I aced that one ahead of time!
I have come to the conclusion that the comment really isn't a compliment at all. Its just what people say when they are trying to cover up what they are really thinking...
"Damn, so THAT'S what 47 looks like!"
(I love telling the Oompas that they will all look like either Dickidoo or me when they grow up, its soooo fun to watch their sassy little faces turn positively sick with worry.)
And, just in case a glance in my mirror each morning, or the steady rising temperature in the room when the birthday candles are lit on a cake that grows larger each year to accommodate the increasing number of candles, doesn't give me a clue that I just might be on the downward slide towards the half century mark... now even my junk mail and online spam has adjusted to reflect my maturity.
I no longer receive offers for penile enlargers or sexual enhancers. Now I get offers for free samples of cialis and hot flash relief. Victoria's Secret has been replaced by Lane Bryant and I think the Gerber Life Insurance company may have sold my address to that new company that offers Alzheimer's Insurance... I kid you not, I got a brochure today!
'You are as old as you feel.' That's a goofy saying. Right now I feel stiff and creaky, a little achy, a little worn out. I guess this is what 47 feels like.
But I'm a HAPPY stiff, creaky, achy, worn out 47 year old! (I hear grand babies will do that to you.)