It’s official — Roy and I have crossed over. This morning we found ourselves discussing constipation and hemorrhoids, and looked at each other in horror. “How can this be? We’re only 14 years old!”

It’s definitely surreal to look in the mirror and see some strange face looking back at you. But I’ve never identified with my chronological age, and therefore aging has never been an issue for me. I believe that you should preserve your body according to whatever standard feels right for you, and that’s about it. I don’t judge the choices other people make.

But I can’t help recognizing that certain choices I’ve made put me into another age bracket. For instance, I’ve chosen not to wear pantyhose anymore, because they’re uncomfortable, and therefore I don’t read magazine articles featuring textured hosiery and pencil skirts. But I am interested in dietary fiber, so I thumb through magazine articles that address that subject. So I’m reaching for more “AARPS” and less “More”. And I gave up “Glamour” a long time ago.?

I guess I’m avoiding my denial of physical aging by focusing on the mental part — I’m whatever age I choose to be, even if I don’t wear cut-offs anymore. This makes me happy. I’m not denying the fact that I need to pay attention to my body in different ways as I get older (like having regular colonoscopies), but I don’t have to “be” different.

I always loved that about my parents. Until the day they died, they both were open-minded and curious about life, even as they were (mostly) accepting about the aging process. They got frustrated at times, but recognized that good humor was the best way to deal with the inevitable.

I guess my parents were my role models for aging gracefully. I hope to follow their lead.

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