I've been listening to audiobooks lately, and in the one I'm listening to now [Death of a Gentle Lady, by M.C. Beaton], something arresting caught my attention. It takes a bit to catch my attention - I tend to zone in and out when I'm listening and driving.
What caught my attention?
. . . two women, in their late forties . . .
Why did it catch my attention?
Because I am a woman in my early forties, and for a second, I thought, "Late forties? That's kind of old . . . wait . . . that's nearly how old I am . . . wait . . . how the hell did that happen?"
I am not a person who thinks her best years are behind her. Or who quaked at turning 40 [or even turning 30, for that matter]. But I AM a woman who tends to forget how old she is, and also to forget that not everyone thinks of age the same way. Which is a pity, because I worry for people who discount their later years - there will hopefully be a hell of a lot more of them than your early years. Get cracking!
[I am also not that person who wears age-inappropriate clothing. I do tend to wear age-inappropriate nail polish, but come one. We all have our issues.]
Another example of me not recognizing my age? Deciding what to be for Halloween. Check out my latest list at Secret Society of List Addicts!