Celebration -- I Think.

All hail April 15th, 2010 -- the day I turn 51.

I have a confession: Having a birthday on April 15th is not the greatest. I don't like sharing my birthday with Income Tax Day or the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Both of those events are grim at best -- unless you are getting money back on your tax return. Or, you are Eden -- who loves anything that has to do with the Titanic.

Today I am officially old. I'm no longer new at being 50, I'm in my 50's. Do you know what happens when you are in your 50's -- AARP starts sending you magazines and weekly letters. Matt doesn't get letters from AARP. That's because he is 49 .... not old. Plus, you pee your pants if you laugh to hard. I've had to start carrying a spare pair of pants in my car. (Maybe that's too much information, but I don't care, because it's my birthday and I can say anything I want.)

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How did AARP find me anyway? I want my name taken off their list. Even though I'm over 50, my spirit is 30 -- and it plans to stay there. I don't need AARP insurance or AARP friends thank you very much! I have friends who are 40 for heaven's sake! (But they are thirty on the inside, just like me.)
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Although I have accepted the fact that I'm old, I'm shocked when I hear myself say: "I'm 51." If you think turning 30 was hard, try saying that -- "I'm 51." It will shend shivers up your spine, just you wait. Even more shocking is looking in the mirror. Shivers...definate shivers. You don't have chorister arms when you are 30,or gray whiskers (which, by the way, differs from facial hair). Nor do you suffer from hot flashes. In fact, my head is sweating right now because it knows that it just turned 51. And what is doubly unfair is that I still get acne. How many people do you know over 50 who still break out? (Maybe it's because I'm still 30 on the inside.) I have a tip for you though so that you will be prepared when you cross over the bridge from young to old: Don't look at yourself up close in the mirror. Stand back. Waaaaaaaaay back. Everyone looks great at a distance.

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Sixty must be a real doozer! And 80 . . . I don't dare think about that one. When you are 80 you are REALLY old. You won't need a mirror when you are 80. You can say whatever you think, even if it's rude, and wear whatever you want. But ... sometimes you have to get fisety to ensure that people don't treat you like a frail baby. The 80 year-olds I know are anything but frail. They hike and ski and ride bikes. One of them even drives a sporty yellow Fiero. They are 30 on the inside too, which gives me hope. I want to be just like them when I grow up.

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Fifty-one ..... how did this happen to me? (Sigh.....)

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I think I need a cupcake. Maybe I need two.