Age is just a number

When I posted that picture of me in pig-tails, thanks to the teen girl and her hair-styling implements, a couple of people commented that I look young.

Note: I am not young. No, really. I’m not young. (Also, what is young?)

As most of you probably know I am a mom of teens. I suspect that you think of me as GenX.

I am. I believe I have mentioned this a few times over the years as well. πŸ™‚

I’ve been thinking about age a lot lately, which is partly influenced by this idiotic thing on twitter I came across a few days ago. It irked me but I didn’t know why. Let me find the hashtag…


As expected, there was backlash and a new hashtag was conceived called #DontLookYourAgeChallenge

Seriously though, I’ve talked about this before. Remember how I got a new phone and wrote about how there are built-in filters for selfies? My selfies on these pages don’t show my wrinkles, for instance, thanks to these filters. And I do have them, quite a few. That’s what happens to normal skin on normal people as they age.

On the day I turned 50, I had a bit of a crisis. I had been contemplating for some time what to do about all of these internal thoughts I was having. So, when that milestone birthday arrived, I spent most of the morning creating a new persona. That’s when my pseudonym was born.

I am deeply attached to that pseudonym; in fact, I am semi-regularly writing stories under that name to this day. When I am in pseudonym-mode, I am not all the roles I identify as the real me (Claudette aka Writer of Words etc.). As the pseudonym, I am someone else, someone I created. Someone I aspire to be.

In fact, I feel like I have taken steps toward that new me already.

It’s hard to explain.

But back to my pig-tailed selfie. I do look younger in the photo than I do in the mirror. But make no mistake – young is a state of mind. Or, age is. I’ll reward you for reading this post all the way to the end by disclosing my real age. As of (and including) today I am fifty-two years, five months, and twenty days old.

28 thoughts on “Age is just a number

  1. I turn 52 this month and, holy shit, I’m dreading it. I agree that age is just a number, but I always struggle with it and have gone to great lengths to hide my age from others in the past. Tara thinks the whole thing is silly because I don’t look even close to my actual age (and neither do you, even without your hair in pigtails). Even if I did…if you did…so what?

    I’ve got issues, lol. Which I obviously cover up with April Fools’ pranks.


  2. Beautiful Writer of Words your beauty shines through no matter what age and that will never change. You are one that can only grow more mature and another lovely aspect of you appears.
    Loved your post today. I will be writing one of these about age soon on my birthday in May 😁 maybe I will be crying then and won’t be so brave.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Awe, will be wonderful to have a little celebration and just to see and talk in person ❀️❀️❀️❀️

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Age is just number, like you say. I certainly don’t feel my age, but I did find it difficult turning 40 last year, yet at the same time felt blessed to have reached that age as some of my friends from school didn’t make it that far. Its a strange feeling, conflict of emotions.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. My wrinkles always surprise me. I don’t really look at my face. When I do look at my wrinkles, I see they are mostly smile lines. I like them!
    My body definitely feels the effect of the years, or the Fibromyalgia πŸ€·πŸΌβ€β™€οΈ

    Mentally I feel “younger” now than I did in my 30s TBH. I feel freer, and lighter… not so “weighed down”. I’m happy with who I am, and I’m excited for the future. I feel like most of the hard work is behind me, and the future is for playing.
    So…if I mathed correctly, you’re a Libra?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. You look great in pigtails. I go through phases where I feel indifferent to my age, phases where I’m disheartened by it, then phases where I’m empowered by it. Maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be. Right now, feeling good about it.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. You wear it well.
    Age never really bothered me until this past year when menopause, a knee injury, and pandemic weight gain was the trifecta from Hell. I’m feeling every one of my 57 years now.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Age is a measuring construct. There are legitimate biometrics, but, except in the most dire situations, they do not apply to our mental fixation with age. We think of developmental phases as something we grow through, and out of, as children. But these things continue as life phases–and apply to us along the way, whether we like it or not.
    I don’t post (or do) selfies. In fact, I am largely unaware of my appearance or that of those around me. There are a number of reasons for this–first, I am not into technology. The smartphone has become the substitute for living in our era. Too often, people don’t experience life, except through its lens. I suspect that this is an outgrowth of living according to the expectations of others. I do not own a smartphone, so I cannot be measured by this limitation.
    Secondly, I am largely face-blind, the result of a head injury in my late teens. I was not aware of this affliction until I was in my forties. Just after the injury I moved to California (which was an eye-opening experience to a young person from the sticks.) I came to believe that people in California all looked alike. People with neurological deficits are often not aware of them. Yet, how stupid was I, to think an entire State was without facial features? Face-blind folks don’t relate to portraiture.
    Free of the visually obvious, aging, to me, becomes a measure of capacities. Can one still perform physical labor? (or hike, or climb mountains–insert your own preference.) It is a jumble of cognitive and skill measures. And maturity is a about reaching one’s own comfort level. It is as telling as the ‘terrible twos’ or the fitful rebelliousness of the teens. Some of the humbling aspects of aging may trigger one’s evolution into maturity…but some folks just never get there.


      1. Prosopagnosia. I do not have full face blindness. I can often recognize faces in a 3/4 view. (Face on is the most difficult.) If someone changes their appearance, I can detect it–though I often cannot finger exactly what has changed. Rick will often go weeks without shaving–then when he does, for a day or so, I can see him. Once, my mother and sister flew in to surprise me for my birthday. They were sitting in my kitchen when I came home from an errand. I turned to my then-husband and said, “Honey, there are strangers in our kitchen.”

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Very kind of you to say. I do FEEL 50, though… πŸ™‚ But thank you.

      The filters basically erase wrinkles and even out skin tone. Well, honestly, I’ve always wanted flawless skin and I don’t have that, but these filters give me that so whatever. πŸ˜›

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Owning your age is a precious gift we give to ourselves. As a 54 year old myself, I understand. I happily turned 50 because to me it was a milestone. I’m still here and as I recently hit 54, I’m waking up after the divorce and deciding that this is my life without limits. Good for you! You look beautiful!

    Liked by 1 person

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