Interesting, that feeling of not belonging. I had a tax audit the other day, and, while I felt sure I'd picked out the auditor the moment I saw her, she was still scanning the people (we met at the library) because she was looking for a woman who was 64, and I, apparently, wasn't her.
The reality, I think, is that most people our age, and even older, are "younger" than our parents were at this age. We have had the benefit of growing up in the golden age of medical advancement, and, if we're on this site, we care about our weight and our health enough to ignore the conventional wisdom about what healthy eating looks like.
My brother, a family practice doc, is a year younger than I am. People who don't know us well, even relatives who have forgotten, assume he's several years older, because he eats the SAD, and is significantly overweight and, now, has gout to show for it.
I'm lucky in that my parents were very active, until they couldn't be. My dad had to have rotator cuff surgery at 72, when he fell, practicing skating backwards on his rollerblades. Mom rode a horse (terrified, but she did it) for the first time at my age. I went kayaking on a river filled with small rapids for the first time, two years ago.
Now that I'm getting constant reminders to choose a Medicare HMO provider (choose us! no, choose us!) I guess I really am getting ready to be old. But, really? It's OK. I'll live my life the way I want to, and continue to try to do good things for me, my family, and the world.
I'm just chomping at the bit for Husband to hit 59.5 years old, so he can retire and we can start spending more time traveling. Four more years!
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