I just called and asked Beth if she’s developed any problems sharing her age. She hasn’t.
You see, the women in my family have a long-shared history. Beth and I grew up with our mom and her three sisters. We have lots of differences in our personalities, but we have at least two things in common.
We don’t dye our hair and we easily tell our actual age to anybody who asks.
I was once a proud member of this club, but something happened several years ago and I’m not sure why.
I remember the last time age-telling just rolled off my tongue.
My good girlfriend Darlene was having an afternoon “girl party” at her midtown apartment. At the get-together, I easily became reacquainted with some of our mutual friends and also had the pleasure of meeting some of the women for the first time.
I was just about to leave the party, when Darlene said to the women in attendance, how much she cared for me and what good friends we were becoming. And then she added, while looking at her friends, “and do you know this beautiful woman is. . .” She stopped abruptly, turned to me, and said, “do you mind me telling your age?”
I easily said, “of course not.” So, she finished her sentence adding my age.
“We don’t dye our hair and we easily tell our actual age to anybody who asks.”
The women seemed, as I remember, complementary after finding out my age. At any rate, I exited the party, thinking nothing of the whole age thing. Instead, holding it as a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
I don’t think it has anything to do with this experience, but since that party, I seem to be age-sensitive.
It’s not that I don’t share my age (I’m 69,) I just don’t seem to share it as easily.
So, what do we think, dear readers?! Who out there can give me feedback?
Do you share your age? Or do you think of age as extremely personal and keep it to yourself and your close circle of friends?
As always, we’d love to hear from you. Share in the comments.
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