Being 50 vs Turning 50.

Sunday I attended the 50th birthday party of a friend. It was a very nice event planned by her husband with no black balloons or snarky comments about being over the hill. I was not as fortunate when I turned 50. Not only did I get the over the hill balloon and coordinating black birthday party decorations, but also a big round over the hill button to wear. Lucky me. This, coupled with a snarky joke by a friend about burning the house down with all the candles, made me hate turning 50. I did not mind being 50, I hated turning 50. I could not wait until it was over.

Why is it okay for people old enough to be your parents to call you old? Wait…my parents did call me old. Why is that okay? I guess I should not be surprised since when I was about 40 my mother told me that I was too old for long hair and I was getting a double chin. I have heard that if you want honesty, ask your kids. My kids know better.

My husband kept making sure I knew he had nothing to do with the party. He was running a little scared but I have nothing against celebrating. I think 50 is a great milestone and I am happy to be over 50 and proud to be a grandmother. But my idea of celebrating this milestone would have been everyone telling me how great I look not how old I am, even if a little stretching of the truth was necessary.

I did fair better than my husband’s grandmother, however. Evidently her husband bought her a hearing aid for her birthday once. My husband learned from this little faux pas and bought me a gift (see below) that says “Baby, you’re not getting older, you’re getting better!” My husband is a very smart man.