I’m out there working, but if people knew how old I really was they’d have nothing to do with me. I wish this wasn’t the case, but anyone who tells you differently hasn’t had to find a job lately.

I tell the truth but it takes me a minute to remember my age. I love closing in on 60. Things got simpler with experience. Wisdom joined the parade along the line and made life more fun.

I always tell my age, although most folks think I’m 8-10 years younger than I am. I’ve been blessed with great genes, and I’ve always taken good care of my skin, avoided the sun and avoided smoking. Plus, my husband is 5 years younger than me but everyone always thinks that I’m the younger one. How fun is that!

As of tomorrow, April 1st, my age will be 48. I just hope I can remember to report the correct age when people ask me. These days I have to stop and think about many things before answering. When I had an appointment with a new OB/GYN he looked at me, looked at my chart and then back at me and said: “You look much younger than your age. I would never have guessed you were 47.” Later I thought: Maybe he says that to everyone - it’s very flattering. My grandmother died in her sleep at 97. She had been to the hairdresser two days earlier, and to the grocery store with my father. Her sewing project was strewn about on her sewing machine. I had a baby at 40, and research says that women who can do that without drugs, are aging more slowly than average. But what about all the gray hair that the children give you?? I think MOM YEARS are more like dog years.

I always tell the truth about my age, but just use creative math. As of last Monday, I’m forty eighteen. My mother has taken it up, as she now proudly says that she’s forty forty.

I could not sleep for weeks waiting for the moment. It was actually embarrassing because I felt like I was a child again anticipating my birthday and the parties that were planned for me. Yet, I was anything but a child. I was about to dance my way into my 60th birthday. In preparation for my parties I went shopping for three very different outfits. The one thing they all had in common was that I saw them as me. The tailored look with a lavender tie and striped shirt; the long flowing skirt in soft earth tones with a low beaded top; and a white and brown silk pants suit. My public self was in sync with my private self. I was bursting with excitement because I believe that it only gets better for a woman with each decade. The reasons for this belief come from the blessing of time and how that time has been filled as the fabric of one’s life. My parties were planned for Friday night, Saturday morning and Sunday evening which was my actual birthday. When I woke Friday morning I walked around my apartment on the 35th floor of my Chicago high-rise. I stood looking out at the city’s breathtaking skyline and at the lake. This was my city where I was born and although I had traveled extensively, where I had lived my soon to be 60 years. I stood over the city with its gloriously fire orange sunrise and I smiled at the memories Chicago and I had shared. My mind wandered back to my 42nd birthday when one month later to the day I met my husband. My girlfriend Sandy and I would go disco dancing on Sunday nights to a dance place called the Snuggery. I was going out to disco dance in my 40’s, something I had never done in my 20’s or 30’s. I had never gone the single bar scene. Yet now in my 4th decade I was enjoying one of my greatest passions. And it was the love of dancing that was about to change my life. This particular Sunday evening Sandy was out of town so I went myself. A man asked me to dance and while we were on the stage, I looked out into the room and as the sea of dancers parted for a moment, I saw a face literally across a crowded room looking my way. The dancing bodies closed rank and the face was gone. Again, with people’s movements, there he was, smiling at me. I thought what a great face and when the dance was over, I walked over to meet Richard. I did not know that for the first time I had just seen the man whom I would marry. Richard was a classical music lover. He had been talked into going dancing by some of his friends. He valiantly kept up with me on the dance floor although this was not really his choice of leisure entertainment. Yet something had clearly happened between us. We closed the Snuggery that night. This was his first and last time in a disco. That my husband and I share the ultimate friendship is the timeless love of my existence. As a newlywed for the first time at age 43, the many perspectives awaiting me were unknowns at the time I made my decision to marry. I was terrified. A full career, social life and valued freedom kept me content and even happy. I did not know, when I finally accepted the idea of marriage, that I was about to become a partner in an existence far beyond my present life, my dreams of loving, my hope of sharing in equality. I have been blessed with a life partner in marriage who with ease, grace and natural inclination makes me feel my personal and professional being fits with his essence as a human, a husband, a lover, a friend. In this time of single life complexities and egos, it is not something I take for granted that I have a relationship that fulfills my potential and sense of completeness. That Richard and I have found and continue to develop our loving is a simple truth; that we were able to do this without the struggles and confusions of a contemporary woman and man is due to real luck, consistent appreciation and an intangible link between us. We are a man and a woman; we are individuals. As husband and wife, we have become not less than we were as singles, but what we always were and more. The “more” is something I knew nothing of even in imagination. It is something that has been created by forming a oneness that retains the breadth and height of two souls and minds. As I stood looking out my window remembering and thinking these thoughts, I suddenly was aware that many of my out-of-town friends would be flying in within the next few hours for my weekend. Richard had arranged for a white limousine to take us to the Friday night party. My sisters had planned an all women’s dancing party for me. My lavender tie outfit with pants and white blazer made me feel as close to Travolta as I possibly could. Tonight I was Travolta and more. My sisters gave me a magical 60th birthday party. On the dance floor the women I love and admire surrounded me in a circle. I danced in the center to Gretchen Cryer’s song “Happy Birthday” from her play “I Am Getting My Act Together And Taking It On The Road”. They sang with Gretchen’s voice as I danced in celebration. I was profoundly with them but at the same time I was in my own pure joy. I was transcended into a place deep within myself where I live and love and write and feel and share and dance. I wanted a dancing party. This was the way I could express the magical freedom I was feeling. It was more than a birthday I was celebrating. It was living 60 years and all the blessings in that time. And as a woman it was coming through 5 decades to my 6th which is somehow liberating in many ways and satisfying and hopeful. Have I spent my life well? Have my first 5 decades shared the love I feel, the inspiration I hope I have offered, the vision to which I aspire, the legacy I hope I am creating? The next morning the out-of-towners, my family and our couples friends shared a birthday brunch hosted by my husband Richard. He had the restaurant’s dining room decorated with 500 balloons of every color of the rainbow. It was my fantasy. Around the table he had cards tied with bows. Each card stated what I am in my life. Professor, wife, best friend, daughter, sister, writer, TV personality and on and on. My husband’s loving blue eyes smiled at his accomplishment in making this warm and glowing celebration for me. And what made the day especially grand was that it was also our 16th wedding anniversary. On Sunday I awoke to my 60th year and an elegant intimate dinner party my mother gave for me that evening. What a welcome to my 6th decade. Six is a blessed number. It is the family unit from which I began…and now it is a time that belongs to me and the man I love. It is a time for new dreams and action. It is a time for celebration and thanks. I am filled with gratitude and hope. And I am dancing.

I am 43 - until I turned 40 I was lucky that I always looked a lot younger (people thought I was the intern and not the director which was good and bad) but having our third baby at 39 gave me a few more lines and a few more pounds that I wasn’t expecting - lol - but it’s an “oh well” feeling - I work out, try to eat well and am healthy otherwise

I am 60 years old and I am darn proud to be at that age. I lost my husband to brain cancer when he was 54. I have lost friends who were younger than me. I have wrinkles and by golly I earned every one of them in the school of life!

I’m lok younger than I am, so I shave a few years off my age. It’s better to give a realistic (appearing) age than have people say, “really, you don’t look that old” (some people, literally, were taken aback when I told my real age)

Hey—I’m 52—and I don’t care who knows it. People say, “you don’t look 52.” I always remember Gloria Steinem being quoted at some age saying, “this is what __ looks like.”

Yes….most of the times! ;)

The answer is yes …. so far the payoff being the reply “you don’t look it”. This will change, though, then who knows? I have recently begun downsizing and in that process going through mountains of old photographs. On one hand, I can’t believe I ever looked that young …. on the other hand, I can’t believe I don’t still look like that!

I am glad to be 45years old. I have two wonderful children, a grandson that loves his Nanna. And best of all I have a Husband that is my best friend also.

I turned 35 Friday and I am still given weird looks when I buy alcohol or go to the movies. I just hope I can continue to keep it!