I am middle-aged. Or at least I think I am middle-aged. If I die at age sixty, I am past middle-aged and more like three-quarter-aged. But I'm hoping for kicking around here until at least eighty-five, so I will just go with middle-aged.
How did that happen?
The best sign that you are middle-aged, other than your actual age, is when you start to realize your doctors are the same age or younger than you. When you look at one of your doctors and think, "Please tell me you are Doogie Howser because you look like you are sixteen..."your middle-ageness hits you in the face.
If you don't know the Doogie reference you can rejoice because you probably aren't middle-aged yet.
Overall, I really like being middle-aged. It is much better than I imagined it would be when I was twelve and thought my parents were ANCIENT because they were forty. And yes, my twelve-year-old self did use all caps when I thought that in my head. I clearly remember that they were some of the oldest people in the world.
Interesting fact: I never gave it a second thought that my grandparents were old. Maybe grandparents are just supposed to be old so you don't think about that. They are wrinkly from your first memory of them...so perhaps that is why I thought they were just born that age. The reasoning of a young mind is interesting for sure.
But here I am, not quite feeling old, but definitely not feeling young anymore. I think middle-age is a good time for self-reflection. It is kind of like a Tolkien book. This is where I have been, this is where I am now, this is where I would like to go. I guess I would say I would like to lose thirty pounds on my journey to throw my ring of evil, unorganized habits that leave my house cluttered in the fiery lava of Mt. Doom.
So it is with much excitement in the Hobbiton that I embark on this journey because I think that is what middle-aged years should be all about: making your life what you want it to be now that you have had time to sift out the stuff that just doesn't work.
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