At my age

Through my shoulder surgery recovery and during the recent funeral unpleasantness, one fact has become increasingly clear: my perception of age and ability differs greatly from almost anyone else.¹ I’ve made no secret that I’m frequently much older than my coworkers. And to their credit, absolutely none of them has ever mentioned anything about my age at all, save for the few shocked “I thought we were the same age” utterances every so often, after which point its largely forgotten.

But then there are the vast majority of other people I interact with who insist on saying inane things like “Well, you know you’re of an age.” What the ever loving fuck does that mean, anyway? Is there some milestone chart that magically comes in to play at some point where you start ticking off items on it like “Yep, broke my X bone” or “Gosh, had to go on meds for Y”? Because if there is, could someone please share it with me so I can debunk it?

This bullshit of “well, you know you’re of this age” doesn’t sit well with me. Not at all. It especially doesn’t sit well with me when I mention that I’m trying something new or different. If I want to cut my hair into a punk style and dye it rainbow colors, your response should be “Awesome, send me pics when it’s finished,” not “what would your coworkers think.”² If I want to start learning Brazilian Jiu Jitsu³, your response should be “That sounds right up your alley,” not “What are you thinking starting that AT YOUR AGE.”

At my age. Feh.

I’ll tell you what I can start at my age. I can be an erotic fiction author. I can be a gourmet chef. I can be an illuminator. I can be a seamstress. I can learn the major Shaolin weapon forms. I can drive a race car. I can do 100 sit-ups every day for 100 days. I can do so many things AND MORE because I’ve done all those things. At my age.

I can do anything. My age shouldn’t matter. What should matter is that I’m happy. And I am. Try it some time. You’ll live longer.