The Dark Side of Middle Age

So tomorrow is my birthday, I'm going to be a whole whopping 53. Holy hell, how did that happen? It seemed like yesterday that I was getting married and celebrating my 40th. Now that birthday didn't seem all that bad, and I didn't run for the hills when I turned 50. But 53, now that's different. I've hit that hump that will slide me into 55. And what's so special about 55 you ask? It means that I'm officially on the dark side of middle age. People are living longer so there was an outside chance that I could live to 100 so turning 50 was still within the middle age bracket. Okay, I'm stretching it a bit because most people don't live to 100 but who knows, between now and then, doctors may discover that Botox applied directly to the brain may extend life a few years (which means Cher could live to 200). But, now I have to face reality, I doubt that I'm going to live to 110 so I am officially on the dark side of middle age. Not that life is over, my 60(mumble)-year-old sister can attest to that. You know, the sister that's exactly 10 years and 4 months older than me, just in case you confused her with the other sister that I don't have. And that is what makes me feel younger than the dark side of middle age—knowing that no matter what, Catherine will always be older than me!!