When I first took Sharecare’s “Real Age” (yes, Dr. Oz is a partner in the site) I came in at EXACTLY my age. Today is my birthday, and in addition to crying if I want to (you would cry too if aging happened to you), I also decided to re-take the test to see what kind of progress that I have made. Well, I’m happy to say that I came in at 1.4 years lower than my real age of muffity biffity (did you think I was going to admit to it?). I know, it doesn’t seem like a lot to you, but it reinforces everything that I’ve been doing is helping. My goal for the end of the year? Come in at 4 years lower than my real age. Stay tuned to see if I get there.
My birthday has always been a non-event in my humble opinion and to the consternation of my mother. Try as she might, it’s never really a big deal for me. Some people treat their day as a national holiday, Some have quiet pride in turning another year older. I, well I am meh about the whole thing. Maybe it’s because when I was just little Jill, I stayed in Ottawa for the summer with my mother and beloved grandmother while my two older sisters were away at camp so it was a bit of an understated affair. Or when I was old enough, I too, went to sleep away camp (7 weeks) and my birthday fell halfway through. No gifts – just a birthday cake that I had to share and the embarrassment of having an entire camp sing happy birthday to me and having to do the hula hop. Even for an attention loving Leo like me, it was a little much. When I was home for birthdays, being a summer baby, many of friends were not around. As I got older, yes it was a bit more fun, but still not something I ever really got excited about.
Now that I’m old enough to be a cougar, I think that the reason that I’m not such a fan is because the gifts that I really want can’t be bought – you see, they are intangible. As nice as a prezzie is, I’d rather have an hour to talk to my wonderful grandmother who died when I was 17 to see if she’d be proud of me. I’d want my mother to have years of good health and physical energy to match her mental energy. I’d want to know that my sisters are content in their lives. Maybe to know that a beloved niece and nephew feel confident in who they are. To have a cousin who is more like one of my closest friends see once, not twice (he knows what I mean). You know – the things that money just can’t buy.
And yes, I do know that I have a lot to be grateful for – I have had a pretty good life so far and it’s only half-way done.