I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point a few years ago I realized the age I was, based on my birthdate, was much older than the age I feel. Does this sound familiar? At some point you see yourself as a certain age, and you don’t imagine you’ve gotten any older. For me, I always feel about 28. That may sound a little young (close to a decade younger than my actual age) but that’s my “real” age – at least to me…
So when those constant life reminders give me a jolt back to reality (you walk by a group of younger men who, in your prime may have at least acknowledged your existence, and who now barely register your presence, or you realize now you are in the 35+ or 40+ or 55+ category when filling out a form) it’s common, at least for me, to do a “reality” check.
That reality check can manifest itself in a number of ways; you try on the jeans that correspond to your “real” age to reassure yourself you can still pull them off, you hit the Holt Renfrew beauty counters or the ones at the Bay and buy something that makes you feel really current (“White eyeshadow all over InStyle I’m buying it!”) or you plan a night out with your girlfriends, in the hippest part of town where you used to spend many nights before you got married, had two kids and thoughts of going downtown seemed like much more of an effort than it is worth.
The best of both worlds is when you can straddle both – embrace the age you are, and look and feel good having arrived at it. Until then, with each birthday, I continue to secretly celebrate my 28th birthday…again 
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