Last week while talking with my best friend for over 30 years we began to marvel at just how long that is. She has been in my life since I was thirteen years old. For thirty years I have laughed, cried, fought, lived with and said some sad goodbyes with this girl. She’s more than a sister, more than a friend, when you have one like her, you know it and if you’re smart you do everything possible to keep them in your life.

As we sent a few selfies showing off my recent bang trimming fiasco, and her new gel nails  we got to thinking; how old do we feel? Our birth certificates say we’re 43 and 44. Our bodies are holding up but lets face it some things are just gonna sag over time. Ahem, it’s fine. The greys in my hair are beyond plucking to hide and the laugh lines around my eyes seem to be growing more and more noticeable. But then we said, “close your eyes.” Close them and really think about it. Let your mind wander. How old do you really feel?

She was quick to answer, stating that she felt at least 35. She had been through many health challenges throughout the years, seen her fair share of breakups and was embracing single life, had just purchased her own town house; yeah she felt a solid 35.

Then I thought about myself. Really thought about it. I’m 43 years old. I have two children, 16 and 12. I’m the youngest in a family of four siblings and honestly…I don’t feel that old when I close my eyes. When I think about my younger self verses the me of today, I’m not seeing much change. Sure I’ve seen and done some things, but much of what I felt to be important, the causes I was concerned with and the morals I held myself to, they haven’t really changed. I still root for the underdog. I still have a fear of public speaking but love to voice my opinion privately and can talk about and listen to anything for hours. I love long talks that dive off in so many different directions. I crave friendship and am loyal to my friends. I love music and movies, and pop culture in general. I love working out and being active. Love trying new recipes and fail more often than not. I’m curious and thoughtful. I enjoy time by myself.

All of these things add up to me. And they have nothing to do with the number of times I’ve orbited the sun. Sure they have grown and deepened over time, but they are me. I don’t feel much different from when I was 21 and on my own because deep down, where it counts, inside, not much has changed. Sure the shell of me may have some wear and tear, but the heart and soul, the part of me that laughs loudly at inappropriate jokes, the one that sings along to AC/DC and dances in the kitchen while making cookies…the little quirks that make up my being are the very things that make me feel however old I feel.

So how old do I feel? I guess I feel 43…or 17…or 21…sometimes I’m 6….take your pick. They are all in there still somewhere. So this is just to say, we may look a certain age, we may be told we are most definitely a certain age, but don’t sweat it…you’re more than a number.  You are experiences, love, friendship, quiet nights spent thinking about your past and future, you are laying on the hood of your car looking up at the stars and making a wish…that’s how old you are.