Most of the time I like being fifty-something, but this aging stuff is complex. Inside I still feel like I’m in my thirties, but then I realize that’s the age of my children. One day recently I caught a glimpse of my hands and became aware of the fact that they look like my mother’s. I’m trying to make peace with the lines around my eyes and brackets around my mouth, justifying them with the fact that I laugh a lot, but saggy skin on my hands – yikes – I’m old.
Although it’s easier said than done, there is no point in having angst about aging. Two undeniable truths are: everyone ages and aging sucks.
