42

Although I won't officially be 42 for another 20 minutes (2:22 p.m.), I am 42 today.

42.

Huh.

I don't feel 42. What does that mean, anyway? Am I supposed to instantly fall apart because I've reached the beginning of a new year? Does 42 really feel that different from 41? 38? 35? Does it look different?

Last week Jimmy W. asked how old I was. When I told him I'd be 42 in five days, he exclaimed, "You're an old broad!" His surprise was evident, and I just laughed. In his defense, he did follow up his potentially offensive comment with, "My wife just asked me how old you were, and I told her 34. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

While that's nice to hear -- really nice! -- I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to look like at this age. Am I supposed to look a certain way? Act a certain way? Wear different clothes or hairstyle or shoes or makeup, like a scarlet letter of some sort? Should it be more obvious that I'm an old broad? Should it even matter?

Recently I've noticed that the years sort of start to blend together, now that I'm past all the noteworthy ages (16, 18, 21). Now I just worry about fives and zeros, as they seem to be milestones of a different sort. But even those birthdays aren't really worth worrying about, are they?

So yes, I'm 42 today. I'm thankful for everything I have -- chief among them my health, family, and friends. I'm looking forward to the next 42+ years. Hopefully you'll all be along for the ride.