Older.
It was my birthday on the 7th. As I wrote last year, I have the coolest possible birthdate ... maybe apart from Hall0ween. A classically lucky numb3r in one of the nicest months of the year, which was also in the middle of the summer holidays. Perfect. But this year was the last time I will ever celebrate it.

My generation are the first to advance into middle age without a map. We aren't like our grandparents or even our parents and now the child-rearing section of life is over the whole future is a blank. We can do absolutely anything we like and most of us look at least ten years younger than our parents did at the same age. If we can manage to stay alive we can look and behave like forty-year olds until we are at least eighty.

It reminds me of the 'This is what 40 l00ks like' remark. I want to be defined only by how 'I' am ... I don't want to be defined by other people's idea of what 50, or 60 or 70 is 'like' and compartmentalised accordingly. A year ago I stopped weighing myself every day and just went by the mirror and how my clothes fitted. What a restful decision. I had no idea of the creeping guilt that was triggered every time I had put on a pound or so. And the pleasure of never being able to reply to the question 'What do you weigh?' except with the answer, 'Who cares?'.

So now I am doing the same with my age. Not like some insecure actress but because I don't feel any particular age .. it varies from day to day and even from conversation to conversation. If anyone in the future asks 'How old are you?', I will answer as before. 'Who cares?'.

The slight cop out is that by chance we moved into this house on my birthday ten years ago. So I can still have a small celebration on that day but it will be for the house and not me and the 'other' reason for the party will never be mentioned.
- posted by Iris @ 8/10/2005 08:57:00 AM comment