Happy Birthday, Mr. President

He was honored with a Nobel Prize. He oversaw the killing of Osama bin Laden. And he was the first African American to be elected President of the United States of America. But these accomplishments pale in comparison to President Obama's latest achievement -- turning 50. As of yesterday, Obama's youth, like Elvis, officially left the building. Huh???? Celebrities aren't supposed to age, at least not quite as publicly as our President does. Not that he has any choice about the world knowing his age; when you're the leader of the free world, you don't get to keep many secrets. And his hair has gotten significantly more gray since he took office, so his aging has not been a clandestine process. But I did hear that he's going to Camp David to "celebrate" his fiftieth birthday  this weekend. I'm thinking he's going there to have some privacy so he can shed a few tears over the fading away of his much-touted youthfulness.
And who could blame him? When I turn 50 on an undisclosed day next month, I think I'm gonna be a bit sad myself. I've spent a lifetime trying to stay youthful and cute, as if my stubborn refusal to mature and age gracefully would make me immune to the aging process.  But when I look in the mirror now and see wrinkles and fat where there used to be neither, I have to admit I'm getting older. Besides, I really wasn't that cute in the first place, so losing my looks shouldn't be as big a deal for me as it might be for someone REALLY cute, like, say,  Goldie Hawn or Demi Moore. When I turn 50, my family and a few close friends will be on hand to gleefully remind me that I am eligible for AARP membership, and I will obligingly groan about how I suddenly feel old. But, if I put on enough make-up and color my hair blonde enough that day, hopefully the rest of the world will be fooled into thinking I'm still a forty-something. As long as they don't call me "ma'am", it's all good.