I've been offline the last few days tending to a minor medical emergency. This was of a slightly embarrassing nature to begin with, and then the doc comes and says:

"As we women age...."

Uh, huh?!!?!?!? I may have the body of a 35 year old, but in my mind I'm still 21. OK, 25, tops. I'm not aging. I'm not! *stomp* Sure, the gals sag a bit and need a bit more support than they used to. Yes, fine, I do have a few fine lines around my eyes, but those are squint lines from years in the Arizona sun, and everyone there has them. I swear. Everyone. Really.

I was doing reasonably okay with the aging process until I heard this. I can deny lines in the mirror, I can overlook a bit of sun damage. But to have a doctor tell you that things are going to stop functioning the way they used to....well, suddenly my back was creaky and my joints ached. Damn. The final indignity was the doctor was in her early fifties and was lecturing me on age. The hell?

Mr. Chaos was wise enough to adamantly deny he noticed any differences. He insisted I was sexier than ever. Mainly in order to insure his sleeping place stayed in our room and not on the couch. I ate every last bit of it up, though.

Then I got to thinking. Would I really age as gracefully as I had hoped? I've always had visions of myself in my sixties with a tanned, wrinkled face and a silver french braid cascading down my back. Yet it was obvious I wasn't ready to accept that as my ideal. Hell, I drove home from the doctor that day contemplating plastic surgery. Really.

So, evidently, the mid-thirties are a crossroads. At least they are for me. I can either let myself go, so to speak, and become the quirky bohemian I have always envisioned, or I can fight like hell, treading the dangerous line of becoming a cougar. Does aspiring to milf status make one a cougar if you are happily married and not trolling? Anyone?

Suddenly I become defiant. Who makes these damned rules, anyway? Why am I doomed to a life of a drab caramel haircolor with beige highlights just because I'm "not as young as I used to be"? Why can't I wear a miniskirt if I want? I've worked damned hard to get back in shape. Shouldn't I enjoy my hard work by wearing what I want? Then a tiny voice inside whispers, "Because you'll look ridiculous. Who do you think you are fooling?"

I'm still not sure where I sit on the debate. But I got my ass to the gym and ran my first mile nonstop. Suck on that, doc.