On Aging
I'm fast approaching that indefinable "middle age". It seems like a shadowy place - midway between youth and old age. Somewhere between immature and mature. I am no longer called "young lady".

I know that roles are changing and youth is extended everyday, but where exactly do I cross that line? When do I have to start acting my age? And what does that mean anyways?
Is there some rule written somewhere that as my hair starts to grey, I have to cut it short? As I approach 50, do I have to stop wearing jeans? When do I have to stop wearing corsets? (I just ordered a new one, so I hope it is not soon!) Can I keep my sense of style, I really just developed it recently, it would be a shame to let it go now. If I continue too far down the path without the appropriate wardrobe, will the fashion police step in and tell me to start acting my age? Where do I change from a cute chick in a tu-tu at Burning Man to a desperate old lady grasping at her youth?
The poem Desiderata from Max Ehrmann says this:
"Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
and I am not sure I agree with him, so for now I will ignore the approaching deadline until it runs me over. And maybe by then I will have cultivated the mindset that I don't care and continue on into my golden years in tu-tus, corsets and long hair.

I know that roles are changing and youth is extended everyday, but where exactly do I cross that line? When do I have to start acting my age? And what does that mean anyways?
Is there some rule written somewhere that as my hair starts to grey, I have to cut it short? As I approach 50, do I have to stop wearing jeans? When do I have to stop wearing corsets? (I just ordered a new one, so I hope it is not soon!) Can I keep my sense of style, I really just developed it recently, it would be a shame to let it go now. If I continue too far down the path without the appropriate wardrobe, will the fashion police step in and tell me to start acting my age? Where do I change from a cute chick in a tu-tu at Burning Man to a desperate old lady grasping at her youth?
The poem Desiderata from Max Ehrmann says this:
"Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
and I am not sure I agree with him, so for now I will ignore the approaching deadline until it runs me over. And maybe by then I will have cultivated the mindset that I don't care and continue on into my golden years in tu-tus, corsets and long hair.
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