I was reading Angelaâ€™s recent birthday article and something struck meâ€¦ something in the sentence â€œabout being one year older and the celebration being overratedâ€. I started wondering when did birthdays stop being exciting and age become just another number? I can remember one of my sons when he was younger, telling people that he was â€œ5 and a halfâ€ when they asked his ageâ€¦ not just 5. And as time passed by a few weeks later he was â€œalmost sixâ€. I wonder what people would do if I said I was 37 and a half. Usually I cop out and just say mid or late 30â€™s. But if Iâ€™m being honestâ€¦ the correct answer is 37 Â½. And why shouldnâ€™t I be honest? When did I start letting a number define who I am?
My mom (well I wonâ€™t say how old she is since sheâ€™d probably give me that mom-look that said â€œI canâ€™t believe you put my number out on the internetâ€ but if Iâ€™m 37 (and a half) then you could probably guestimate a number that would be close) is still beautiful, energetic, and happy at her age. And if I look around at other women that are older than meâ€¦ well it doesnâ€™t look like any of them hit a wall at 40 or 50 that made them any less amazing….
And what about all the other numbers in my life that seem to define meâ€¦ size, weight, income, time,Â etcâ€¦
The focus should be on whether I am healthy for my age not whether the size on the pants I want to purchase are the same size as I bought a couple months ago. How many times have I put a pair back because they were too tight in â€œmy sizeâ€ although probably would have been fine in another size up. Or become silly happy when a size smaller than â€œmy sizeâ€ fits me.
Do I really need to be able to run faster than a 10 minute mile? Is it worth my knees screaming at me when I do? And what do I gain from it? Bragging rights? Maybe a 10 minute pace is good enough? Iâ€™m pretty sure Iâ€™ve passed the age for being an Olympic hopeful – so shouldnâ€™t the focus be on being smart, pacing myself, and ensuring that my legs will still be able to hold me when Iâ€™m 100?
And as for timeâ€¦ well I know I look back on photos of high school and college and think oh gosh to only look like that again. But back then I remember only wanting to look like someone else. At what age does acceptance come? Acceptance for who I am, where Iâ€™ve been and what I’m going toÂ become?
Iâ€™m tired of numbersâ€¦ tired of trying to make them â€œfitâ€ me. I will no longer let them define who I am or what I will become. I’ve decided that IÂ am more than just a numberâ€¦