Browsing potential flatmate profiles I came across a woman who stated that she was mature-aged. What followed though was a bit of a shock. In brackets she had “44.”
As I read that my first thought was “shit… *I’m* 44.” My second thought was “am I mature-aged?”
I’m not one of those people that denies my age. It makes no sense to me. I love being 44. What surprised me was the mature-aged part. I didn’t realise I was there. It feels like that’s something that’s supposed to come but just hasn’t yet. Like it’s just over the hill. I’m on the hill. I’m aware of that… I just didn’t realise I’m actually on the hill 😂
It felt weird to look at her and think “but she seems so old for 44.” She looks mature-aged. I feel like she’d be someone I’d go to if I was looking for someone to make mature decisions. I just didn’t realise that I am actually supposed to be that kind of someone too. (This reminds me of a meme that makes me laugh every time I see it):
“How old do you feel like you are?” my beastie asked, when I told him. My initial response was “in my twenties.” Not that I feel that way physically, nor wish I *was* in my twenties. I just don’t feel like “me” has really aged much. Do we? Does the essence of who we are, age? We become (hopefully) more wise, and knowledgeable and perhaps more aware. Is that maturity? Can we still mature and maintain our youthfulness? I feel like in some ways I’m regressing. Becoming more youthful. More vibrant. But with maturity (somewhat) also. That’s what feels so great!
So why does “mature-aged” feel so inaccurate?