I don’t often think about my age. In my mind, age is just a number…it’s more about how you feel and how you act, and since having children, I’d probably add “what life stage you’re in” to that list.
I think of myself as an “old soul”, and I’ve felt a lot older than my calendar years for as long as I can remember.
Do I look my age? Well, I don’t really know, and I don’t much care. I take care of myself as best I can, and that’s the extent of my worry.
Several months ago, I found myself in a group of new people, and following meeting everyone, I had an opportunity to learn their ages. I was shocked by so many of them.
For quite a few, I would have pegged them to be older than me, but they were in fact my age or younger. And there were a couple who were several years younger than me whom I thought were surely my age.
This experience did make me question whether I see myself as younger (physically) than I really am. It was an interesting point to ponder, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking on it, much less worrying about it.
This psychological exploratory occurred to me again recently, as I thought about how the girls label almost everything they see…”Puppy dog!”…”Kitty cat!”…”Airplane!”…and their favorite word of all-time, “Baby!”
“Baby” was their first word, aside from Mama and Dada, and they now most often say “Tiny baby!” at that.
Although they know the words “boy” and “girl”, I’ve noticed that they call children even their age and a little older “Tiny baby!” quite frequently.
If a kiddo is walking around the store, he might have a chance of being called “Boy!” But a kid in a stroller, or one being carried by Mom? Not a chance.
So maybe it’s innate that we strive to be younger than we really are. Well, except maybe in high school…but that’s another psychological exploratory altogether…