What's in a Number? Or, Pass Me My Spectacles, Sonny

Okay, so I turned 49 a couple of days ago. Not a big deal, right? Age is nothing but a number, anyway, right?

Here's the problem I have with that theory. Have you ever noticed that the only people who say things like, "Age is just a number" are old? Really, when was the last time you heard a 23 year old go, "Yeah, I'm 23, but age is just a number. I feel like I'm really 80."

So I'm 49 now and the decades are flying by at an alarming speed that I wouldn't believe if I wasn't living through it. I remember how bummed out I was when I turned thirty. Man, I was depressed. Not only wasn't I a teenager anymore, I had already lived through my twenties! That day happened nearly two decades ago now. Yikes.

Then all of a sudden I turned forty and I wasn't exactly thrilled, but it didn't seem to bother me as much as the thirty thing had, ten years earlier. I guess I figured, what the hell, you're over the hill now anyway, what difference does it make whether you're a few years or a few decades over it?

But now that I've embarked on my final year before I become eligible for my AARP card I find that I'm dreading turning fifty. As much as I'll enjoy the discount on my large coffee at Dunkin' Donuts every day on the way to work, I find I really don't have any desire to be in my fifties, you know what I mean? Getting up three times a night to pee, trimming hair out of my ears, trying to avoid the prostate cancer that took out both my father and grandfather - As much fun as all of that stuff sounds, it's an adventure I'm not quite ready for, especially when I still feel like I'm 22 or something.

But what the hell; age is just a number, right?