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~ The Big One! ~

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I’m not going to pretend that turning 50 isn’t a bit freaky. Even saying 50 feels weird. 50, 50, fiftyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!

The anticipation leading up to a new decade is always daunting. But now that I’m here, 50 doesn’t feel the way I imagined it would. 50 always seemed to be the entryway to “old.” My impression of 50-somethings were frumpy older characters on TV shows or the schleppy older neighbour down the street; basically, anyone who is frumpy, old and schleppy. But when I look at my almost 50-year-old friends and famous folks who are turning 50, I see fit, vibrant, and very hot guys and gals!

Among many others, Julia Roberts, Nicole Kidman, Lisa Bonet, Jason Statham, Jamie Foxx and Liev Schreiber are all 1967 babies. Not bad company at all. True, I’m no Nicole Kidman (though M would counter, “She’s no Bonnie Kim!” Yup, M’s good like that). Besides getting some help from great makeup artists and lighting directors, Nicole clearly has exceptional genes on her side. I mean, have you seen her in the HBO series Big Little Lies? Gorgeous!

Sure, there are moments when I feel a bit creakier and crepier than before but, for the most part, 50 isn’t looking or feeling that crappy at all.

So, in no particular order, here are some of the best and worst things about turning The Big 5-0!

The best thing about turning 50 is the fun party M is throwing me. Food, drinky poos, ping pong, and a bunch of people I enjoy eating, drinking and ping ponging with, gathering together to celebrate MEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Playing ping pong (is it “playing ping pong” or “ping ponging?”), brings out the kid in me, and triggers fits of laughter and other curious vocalizations. At the end of the night, my face will have an imprint of every joyfully expressive moment. That’s the ironic pay-off for having fun – looking old when I’m feeling young.

The worst thing about turning 50 is when I tell people I’m turning 50, and their reaction is something like, “Wow! Happy Birthday!” and not something more appropriate like, “What?! Get the fuck out?! You don’t look a day over 35!” Throw a gal a bone people!

The best thing about turning 50 is, aside from falling asleep on the couch before 9pm, getting tipsier than usual after just two cocktails, and how ridiculously easy it is to throw my back out (opening the cheese drawer in the fridge anyone?!), I don’t physically feel the way I thought 50 would/should feel. I can basically do everything I ever did, I’m just more selective. I mean, there’s no point in both of us getting up and crossing the room to close the door, turn out the light or get my vodka martini with extra olives, etc.

Seriously, if I don’t continue to demonstrate the combinations in my dance classes full-out, I’ll be just a few pas-de-bourrées away from parking my 50-year-old ass in a chair, from which I’ll end up teaching the entire class, banging a stick to keep tempo, shawl draped across the chip on my shoulder, cigarette dangling between my snarling lips, nursing a diet coke and reminiscing about my glory days as a “dahncer.” That’s right, I’ll adopt a nondescript European accent and I’ll be bitter.

The worst thing about turning 50 is I’m often the oldest person in the room.

The best thing about turning 50 is I don’t always look like the oldest person in the room.

The worst thing about turning 50 is it’s sometimes hard to watch those who are older than me, getting older.

The best thing about turning 50 is I say what I mean more often (which can also be the worst thing).

The worst thing about turning 50 is I’ve lived more than half my life.

The best thing about turning 50 is my priorities have become crystal clear.

The worst thing about turning 50 is I have less patience, so I can get bitchy on a dime.

The best thing about turning 50 is I can still turn a head or two!

The worst thing about turning 50 is how invisible I feel in the world sometimes.

As 50 approaches, I don’t have all the answers. I’m kinder to myself. I’m a good person. I have faults. I value good health more than ever before. I don’t forgive easily, if at all. I’m usually self-aware and sometimes a ding-dong. I believe we get what we give. I believe we get in our own way most of the time. I hate complainers, especially when the complainer is me. I think a lot about the world, people, stuff. I’m protective. I have love in my life. I wish I was as generous as my dad.

Happy birthday to all you ‘67 babies!

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