Alas, there are times when the "tra-la-la-la I'm still young" inner child gets a solid kick in the teeth. The best thing to do then is spit out the blood and have a good laugh about it.
Like last summer, when some of our grandchildren were visiting. I convinced my son and granddaughter to spin the jump rope for me. Wanted to demonstrate jumping in. I executed it perfectly, too, and it felt great! Just like being a kid again. But, zippadee-doo-da, my feet went out from under me, and the next thing I knew, my arse hit the driveway like a one-ton sack of potatoes. I thought it was hysterical, but the rest of the family was mortified ... and wouldn't "let" me play jump rope anymore. (spoil sports!)
And a few months ago, while shopping with one of my daughters-in-law, I said something about how all the clothes looked like "old lady" clothes. Then, I laughed and said, "D'OH!" She failed to see a lick of humor in it.
And two years ago, I had an epiphany in a cemetery. The funeral director had set up rows of red-cushioned chairs beside the gravesite for the benefit of the older women in attendance. While the minister talked on and on, (and on) I stood with my husband, shifting my weight from one aching foot to the other, leaning on him, rubbing my back. Then it hit me, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. By golly, those chairs were set up for ME! As soon as we got home, I called my friend, and after we finished laughing, we agreed that if she and I go somewhere together when we're in our nineties, we'll still be saving seats for the "older" people in attendance.
So, don't let aging get you down. For one thing, it's too damned hard to get back up again, but mostly, it's because this really can be a terrific time of life. So enjoy it! Let me remind you that ANY woman can have the body of a 21-year-old, if that's really what she wants. But (Bada-BOOM!) she may have to buy him a few drinks first. And ladies, as much as we've grumbled over the years about men not looking at our faces when they're talking to us, it's a little reassuring to know that, even at my age, men are still looking at my boobs. (So what if they have to squat first?)
How about you? Is there sometimes a disconnect between the "real you" and what the calendar tries to tell you? Can you laugh about it? After all, we don't stop laughing because we get old; we get old because we stop laughing.
How about your writing? Do you tend to write about... and for ... people your own age? Younger? Older? Any particular reason?
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.