Defying or redefining reality?

I'm tired of people blaming every little thing I complain about on age!

Whether it's me forgetting something or not able to move as fast because of a new ache or pain -- or the washed-out color of my hair in a recent video -- the response recently often has been a reference to either to my age or as blatant as that's what happens when you get old.

I don't buy it.

I've been defying this crazy spring that keeps feeling like winter by finding ways to wear my lighter fashions and brighter colors while still staying warm.

And I realized I also was defying my age, although not intentionally.

Maybe it's because this year's birthday started out in San Juan and included several hours in the air and airports, with two time changes, before ending up with a few hours at home in Norman. I just know that it was probably a month after March 11 that I realized I was still thinking I am 58.

I was pulled back to reality when I was trying to remember my husband's age. It wasn't computing, because he's three years older than me, and the math just didn't add up. So I fell back to the trick that never fails when I get confused on ages, and realized, yep, it's 2018, I was born in 1959, I've had my birthday, so: 59.

That's still no reason for someone to insinuate that the reason my hair looks so washed out on an Easter video is because it's turning white or gray!!!! I mean, yes, I have plenty of gray, but that's the only picture ever where my hair looked like that!!!

So, I really am 59. Yes -- I will be 60 when the next birthday rolls around. That just doesn't seem right. But it really doesn't matter. Age is just a number and I don't plan to let it slow me down.

Maybe I owe a debt of gratitude to those folks who keep reminding me that I'm getting older. The reminders inspire me to keep defying the stereotype.