Old?

I read an article yesterday in the Wall Street Journal called something like “When did you first feel old?” It was a clever little article quoting the minister of longevity from Stanford (an actual thing) and quotes from people from their late 20’s and beyond on when “old” feelings first settled in.

The obvious push is to answer the question yourself. When did I first feel old? 

In typical fashion, my first instinct is Nev-er.

I am young at heart. In reasonably good shape. With a lot of vibrant energy. I honestly feel like I could be 25 most days.

I choose 25 intentionally because I had my first baby at 27 and all hell broke loose for the next decade. That sweet little princess and her two siblings to follow were all terrible sleepers. Real deal sleep deprivation does not make one feel young.

So I harken back to 25. Nope. Not me. Not old. Still a spring chicken.

And then, I realize, if I’m being honest with myself, this is not true.

It’s a completely embarrassing story, but I will share. The first time I truly felt old – or certainly old-er than I would like – was several years ago. I’m going to guess I was about 35ish. When I realized I was older than Justin Bieber’s mom. That’s right. True story.

My big kids were huge fans. And truthfully, so was/am I.  I can’t remember how I figured this out. It could have been watching one of his documentaries (with my kids! although the first one was actually quite good). Or reading an article. In any case, yep, not only could I be his mother, but I am actually older than his mother. By just a few years in my memory. And I think she had him when she was like 16. But still.

Eye opening. 

Now, sometimes at work, when I’m in a meeting with real “millennials” or people many, many years younger than me, I do feel old-ish. But then I quickly brush it off.

Because I still hold true that age is just a number. How you feel. How you act. How you embrace life – this is what matters, not a number.

I’m going to keep hanging on to 25ish…even as it becomes decades in the rear view mirror. And with certainty, I ignore all of those “what not to do after 40” articles that are all the rage. Wear a bikini? Heck yeah. Ripped jeans? My favorite. Long hair? For sure. High heels? Absolutely.

All potential rule-breakers. All totally me. What really matters is not how old you are – or if you feel old. But are you making the most of the age you are? I always want the answer to be definitively yes.