In high school, we had a gatekeeper -a security guard sans the arsenal that makes one, who, I thought was very old. He was 25 then, I was about 13 or 14. As a teenager, that was how I looked at people who were older -rotten old. But when I reached that old age of 25, my paradigm shifted radically to something more forgiving. I’ve matured enough to realize that someday soon, I will turn ancient myself.
The year I turned 30, people were already saying that it was the new 20. And when I turned 50, it was the new 40. Now I wonder, when I turn 120 (heaven forbid!), will it be the new 110? You know, like an auto-voltage appliance that you can plug into any power outlet!
Because today starts the ber months, like Christmas-just-around-the-corner thing, my birthday is, too. And at that turn, I will be 62. Ya beach, I am freakin’ medieval! And please, don’t give me the “It’s the new 52” hype. After six decades, it doesn’t work anymore. All it takes for the hype to fade away is a good look at the mirror. Haha.
When I could no longer hide my bald spots with my bangs, I’ve accepted the fact that when women still look at me, they do so not for the good looks but they probably think I’m rich!
At this age, age is no longer just a number. It matters to me more than it didn’t then. I can’t change reality but I can change my frame of mind. The more I embrace, the more I strive to live life to its fullest. Like right now.
Cheers!
If you’ve been touched, amused, or entertained by this post, or it put a smile on your face, please favor me with a cup of coffee. I will continue writing.
