Wait…Am I Old?

Forty is the new twenty, right? That’s what everyone is saying, or maybe it’s just what my friends that are over forty are saying? I found myself thinking about how old I am the other day when my son referred to someone as “old” someone who I do not consider old, someone who is maybe ten years older than I am. What does that make me? Am I old? Am I about to be old?

Age is such a funny thing. When you’re young you can’t wait to grow up. When you are older you take great measures to “stay young.” But here in the middle we’re straddling the line. We’re not quite old—we’re not! We are also not what I would call young.

Do We Really Want To Be Young Again?

Here’s the thing, I’m not sure we’d want to be young again. Don’t get me wrong every year when my college girlfriends and I travel together we have the same wish—that we could go back in time and relive it, but just for a weekend. We wouldn’t want to live eternally in the land of free beer for ladies, 2 a.m. bedtimes and questionable dating choices. We have fond memories and, if time travel were possible, it would be hilarious to go back and take a look at that little piece of history. But I don’t think younger me is really where I’d want to spend my time.

I may be biased, but I actually think old me is way better than young me. I’m not just saying that because I obviously have no choice—I have reasons! First of all, younger me has no idea what she’s doing because she’s never really done anything. She’s a good student, a good friend and an overall responsible gal, but she hasn’t lived any life yet. She has no idea what she’s going to do, if she’ll be successful, how she’s going to achieve her goals? Young me is excited about all of these things, but she’s also a little intimidated, because: life.

Old me doesn’t have all of these problems. Well, she has some of these problems. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, if I’ll be successful or how I’ll achieve my goals. But unlike young me, old me isn’t intimidated. Old me knows that I can achieve things because I’ve proven it to myself over and over. Old me also knows that part of the fun is that no one ever really knows what’s next. We are all changing and growing all of the time. So, old me is already ahead.

Young me also cares entirely too much about what people think. She’s a pleaser and an achiever. She wants to “show the world” what she can do. Old me still cares, she just cares a lot less. She’s more interested in proving things to herself. She got to learn through time, that only achievements that were actually important to her were worthwhile—the others were kind of hollow and lackluster. Old me doesn’t really want to be around people who are keeping score, nor does she want to keep score. Old me is learning the art of not giving a flip.

The Good Stuff

In practical terms young me is a train wreck compared to old me. Young me does not know what styles look best on her frame. She tries fashion trends that are clearly not meant for her. (I’m not sure why we all dressed in business casual attire throughout the 90’s, but I’m going to blame it on Friends). Her living situation is sketchy at best. This is not her fault, she is young and has no money so sharing a bathroom with 3 roommates is just the norm. Young me understands the value of sunscreen, but she should have used it a little more. She also should have NEVER thought that she was overweight for one second of her young little life.

Old me is killing it here. Most importantly, old me has much better shoes. She will no longer try to jam her size 8 into a 7 ½ just because it is on sale. She can pay up for things that she loves and not feel badly about it. She is also aware that every fashion trend is most definitely not for her. While she tries to stay current, she knows how to stay in her lane. This makes her immune to the blue eye shadow trend as well as the comeback of overalls. Old me also lives in a grown-up house without 3 roommates (kids don’t count because that was our own fault and they don’t pay rent). She has a home, not a place where she lives. Old me LOVES sunscreen and hats. Old me tries to be healthy but does not beat herself up over what the scale says or a roll (or two) here and there. Old me has had THREE children so she is quite happy that her body is even still mostly holding it together. Old me is winning in the practical part of this exercise.

I was a little worried last week about falling into the “old” category. After some thought, I think I’m OK with it. If given the choice between the two, I’ll go old every time. Young me was fun and she taught me a lot. Old me is just better. She’s better at life and relationships. She’s surrounded herself with an amazing tribe. She has an appreciation for herself that young me just wasn’t privy to. She eats better food, drinks better wine and goes on way better vacations. Old me is almost exactly what young me was hoping she’d be. So, I’ll take being grouped into the “old” category–turns out, that’s where all the fun is.