Another Year Older
I have friends who read my blog who will concur that I used to shave a year off my age whenever someone asked me how old I was. This was my chance to be deliciously naughty and outright lie about how old I was and let me tell you, it was empowering. I didn't feel bad about not being truthful because the truth was I felt younger than I was. But what a ridiculous sham. Why did I think one year made any difference at all in how people perceived me? At the time I was working in publishing and it's such a young business that I felt in order to fit in better I needed to whittle my age down by 365 days. (forehead slap)
 But in all seriousness age is an odd thing. I recently turned 46 (and that's for real) and even with this broken foot of mine and some lower back issues I feel like a thirty-two year old stuck in a 46 year old body. My bad cholesterol is low, my good cholesterol is high, I'm at the optimal weight for my height, my yearly blood work reveals that I have excellent organ function with no signs of heart disease. I do not suffer from diabetes nor have I ever had skin cancer (I dutifully wear my sunscreen and get yearly full body checks). I have never been a smoker, heavy drinker, nor have I ever been addicted to drugs. And I have always been careful about what I eat. My motto is moderation. Eat the good stuff and consume less of the bad stuff. I love my kale smoothies, my famously huge salads with tons of brightly colored veggies and sunflower seeds, hearty grain breads, angel hair pasta dish with extra virgin olive oil, garlic, Roma tomatoes, and fresh basil and grilled salmon filets done on a cedar plank. But if a homemade vanilla cupcake with chocolate butter cream frosting is handed to me I never refuse. Ever. It's all about balance, right? Have a glass or two of red wine rather than consume the entire bottle. Don't starve yourself all day to then binge eat at night. Exercise regularly.
 I used to be very "put off" by the number assigned to me. And now at 46, I realize that this is just a number. And that my 46 years compared to another person's 46 years can be remarkably different. It's not the number. It's how we have cared for our selves all these years that matter. I do think that the hard years of sleep-deprived partying in your 20's, continued on into your 30's because you think you're still in your 20's starts to play catch up real quick in your 40's. I see what all those years of taxing your liver, burning your lungs, consuming large amounts of greasy snacks on a pot high can do to you. No amount of body cleanse is going to wipe away years of being bad to yourself though I admire folks I know who have kicked a bad habit and are getting themselves clean and healthy.
 Age is no excuse to give up on taking care of our bodies. Work is no excuse not to exercise (there's always an extra 15 min. in your day to get outside, walk around the building at a brisk pace and back to your desk before your boss even notices), and being uneducated about healthy food is no excuse for eating a lot of highly processed foods (the internet is a wealth of information - what you need to know is right in front of you if you're curious enough to learn about it).
 So I proudly tell people how old I am now. Sure I've got some crows feet around the eyes (hoping my Olay Regenerist cream will help with that!) and a skunk streak of grey that I have colored regularly. And I'd love a little more youthful baby fat in the face, but I'm happy with how I feel and look and I'm pleased every time my blood work comes back with all the right numbers.
I've gotta be doing something right.