This weekend began a month long celebration of the day of my birth. And I have to be honest, I’m not so sure I was ready to turn…..37.
I turned 37 this weekend despite my apprehension.
For some reason odd numbers annoy me. Like if I can’t divide you evenly by 4, I don’t want anything to do with you. But Chad did mention that 37 is a prime number, so I guess that’s good.
Although I don’t look 37. Which is a genetic miracle in and of itself because I take after my mom in most ways, so it was almost certain I’d go gray in my early 30’s. Which, if I’d do this now, it really wouldn’t be a big deal because one of the emerging trends of 2016 is, no joke, to dye your hair GRAY! (Apparently there are advantages to growing older in the 2000’s 😛 )
And most days I don’t feel 37. Until the moment I sneeze and pull a muscle. Seriously, this happened last week. It was quite disorienting.
So now my question is, how do I act 37?
I mean I already pay bills, take fish oil and I’ve started doing a stationary bike on a regular-ish basis. That’s hard on these 37-year old knees though. Oops!
So because I don’t look 37 (seriously I was still carded when I went out to dinner last night), is there an exactly correct way to act 37? I mean, could I in theory put on a tutu and a hello kitty necklace and drink a juice box while sitting at my desk? I tested this out last night:
I don’t know about you, but this seems like a completely normal 37-year old activity.
I think this mind set that acting your age is a relative activity runs in my family. My own grandpa taught us all that. And October is the anniversary of his promotion to heaven.
Grandpa was the next to youngest of 12. All of which–with the exception of two or three–lived into their 90’s, never entered a nursing home, and worked till the day they died. My grandpa was no exception.
A farmer by trade, this man was still working on the farm and climbing 100 ft. barn roofs well into his 90’s. As he was also blind in one eye, this of course made his children a bit nervous. “Dad!” my aunt would say, “You can’t do that anymore! What if you fell??” Grandpa would nonchalantly reply, “Oh don’t worry about that. I have a system.”
He never explained what that actually meant. But that was all of an explanation he felt was needed. My grandpa embodied the concept of not acting your age.
The last week of his life was pretty epic. It started out pretty normal. My grandpa did yard work around his house and then grabbed a chainsaw to prune one of his trees. While standing on the 20 ft. ladder with the chainsaw (it was on), he lost his footing and fell off the ladder. He survived the fall but broke both of his legs. After being airlifted to the hospital at the larger city next door, he went into surgery where they reconstructed BOTH legs with pins.
Oh, I forgot to tell how old he was when this all went down.
Yeah, I told you this was epic. 😉
Guys, he SURVIVED surgery and was put back in his room to wait for a space on the rehab floor to open up. When he awoke, he inquired of the nurses when they thought he’d be able to get back on his three-wheeler again.
He wasn’t reverting back to childhood. He legit had a three-wheeler that he rode around the neighborhood.
My grandpa perfected the art of acting his age, by shattering the stereotype that a man in his 90’s should just sit around waiting for death, while maybe reading a book and playing an occasional game of canasta. He embraced life to the fullest and “younger” activities with zeal.
So if you, like me, are feeling a bit apprehensive about turning another year old, take heart. You are not alone. So strap on a tutu, drink a juice box and ride around the neighborhood in a three-wheeler.
Carpe Diem, y’all! ♥