47
Today is my birthday. At 12:31 (Yes, I know the actual time of my birth. My mother told me that I interrupted the lunch break of a doctor and a nurse.) I will by 47 years old. I was going to write about the fact that I'm starting to get a little squeamish about my age. I really like being in my 40s. I don't want to think about the fact that I'm now sort of in my late 40s and that I can see the big 5--0 coming up. This is unusual for me because I try very hard not to care about my age. I've made a point for being grateful for the privilege of growing older because not everyone is allowed so many years. This fussing about age is not like me. I mentally gave myself a shake and told myself that I'll ruin three more years of a perfectly good decade by worrying about this now. I'm still in my 40s and I can, if I choose invoke the feminine privilege of staying in my 40s. (What I'm really hoping for is to be timeless like Sophia Loren, Katharine Hepburn ...