Recently, my sister was making a comment on my blog.
“I’m thirty years old. . .” she wrote.
“Wow,” I thought, “she is really psychologically healthy and happy with her life.”
You see, the truth is that my sister isn’t 30. She is twenty-nine and will only turn thirty in March. I knew a man who seriously contemplated suicide in the week before he turned thirty. “I realized that I was getting too old for anything good to happen to me,” he said. I’ve heard this many times from people who were about to turn 30, 35, 40, etc., which is why I’m glad that for my sister, turning 30 is nothing but an anticipated cause for celebration.
I never understood why people were secretive about their age and pretended to be younger than they are. It is such a denial of yourself, of your experiences, of entire years of your life that I simply don’t get it.
Of course, I know that I will be immediately told in response to these observations that “society values youth.” But who is this mysterious “society”? Doesn’t it consist of all of us? And don’t we contribute to the idea that only youth is good and valuable every time we conceal our age?
Do you conceal your age?
Clarissa's Blog 
Leave a comment