FIfty is Nifty - NOT!

This is not an easy post to write. Not only am I reluctant to admit that I am about to turn f-f-f-fifty soon, but it's literally hard to write this because my fingers and hands are achy with what I can only assume is arthritis, the bane of those of us entering or in the half-century club. In a few weeks, I'll be fifty years old. Officially. I've been telling people I'm almost fifty for the past several months because I thought that would help to cushion the blow when the dreaded date actually arrived. But even so, I am still not loving the thought of very soon becoming a has-been to advertisers and employers. Fifty is NOT nifty. Not in my book. I'd gladly give up my AARP discount at the Holiday Inn in exchange for better eyesight, healthy joints, and naturally blonde hair. I know there's no way to stop the clock from ticking, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. When I'm struggling to keep this aging thing in perspective as the Big Day gets imminent,  I try to remember something my father in his infinite and blunt wisdom told me. He said,  "You think 50 is bad? Just wait til you're 75!" Thinking about him saying that to me always lifts my mood a bit. If only it would lift my sagging face, too. Oh, well. I suppose that boost will have to be left to a plastic surgeon to accomplish.