Half A Century

I turn fifty this week.  The big 5-0.

Wow.  That's a pretty bold thing for a girl to admit, but I'm actually okay with that number.  Surprised?  Curious?  Don't worry.  I'm not going to get all philosophical about the life experience I've accumulated throughout the years.  I'm not going tell you how much younger generations can benefit from my great wisdom and counsel.

Nope.  The reasons I'm okay with turning fifty are a little less complicated than that.

To begin with, I have no grey hair...absolutely none.  I know that to be true because after I dyed my hair last week, I didn't rinse out the bottle on purpose.  That way there was some left to cover any stubborn grey strands that had the nerve to show up the next day.

I don't have a lot of wrinkles...and I've often wondered why.  Perhaps it's because of the limited exposure I get to harmful UV rays and my great aversion to tanning beds.  Maybe it's simply clean living or genetics.  Honestly?  I think it has more to do with hormone replacement therapy.

Menopause is such a negative word.  I plan to remain in denial as long as possible.

I drive a fairly sporty little SUV.  My minivan days are long gone.

I have enough strength left to lift important things, like cute little kids and groceries.

My brain seems to be functioning at a fairly high level.  If I go into a room and stand still long enough, I will eventually remember why I am there.

There is one last reason I'm okay with turning fifty this week.

I'm still young enough to remember when I thought fifty was old.