I was at a party the other night and someone started talking about my birthday. 

It was me. I am that someone. I love talking about my birthday and I love having birthdays and I love people singing to me and I love cake. There. I said it. It is not keto and it is not healthy but cake is yummy and I like my birthday. 

Anywhoooooo…

Someone at the party squints his eyes and considers this the perfect opportunity to ask the question that has clearly been a source of speculation…

“HOW OLD ARE YOU?”

The room went silent. I have lived in Costa Rica less than two years, so not everyone here has known me since grade school like my friends from my hometown. They can’t really even guess since I have a twenty-year range of children but only my three youngest are here. I find people often want to know this question about me, but few have the chutzpah to just ask.

But this guy did, and the room was listening. And paying especially close attention was a party-goer who had started his version of the festivities about eight hours prior and his perspective and stance were both kinda wobbly.

“In a few days, I will be 49.”

I said it out loud. I am almost 50. I am pretty much nearing my last fuckable day according to many [editor’s note: you are so very far from that, Baby]. I am pretty cool with my age since most of the coolest people I know are older than me anyway, but I am aware of the weight of being a woman approaching 50, on the precipice of losing all my worth on this planet – at least according to many… but what happened next made me so happy.

That overly-exuberant party-goer who was eight hours into the party already, raised a shaky finger and shouted:

“You are too old to be doing what you are doing!”

I delighted in everything about this moment.

“I sure hope so.”

I hope that when I am 60, my shakey finger friend shows up to point at me again while I’m dancing on a Macy’s Thanksgiving day float with a group of rockin’ drag queens.

“You are too old to be doing what you are doing!”

I hope when I am 70, my drunk friend leans on his cane, pointing at me while I mount an electronic bull dressed in as a super hero in a psychedelic pants suit.

“You are too old to be doing what you are doing!”

I hope when I am 80, he wobbles up in his mobility scooter, pointer finger engaged, wobbling after me down the street as I rock out to showtunes on a motorcycle, topless.

“You are too old to be doing what you are doing! Also, that might be illegal.”

I hope I am always doing things informed only by my desire (and ability) and not by small rules made by small people wanting to enforce the idea of a small life. Luckily, I came up with a life philosophy that addresses all of that.

It is simple, but you need to listen closely and commit it to memory.

Believe me you will need it.

A lot.

Okay, here it is: 

FUCK. THAT.  NOISE.

Honestly, our expiration date comes soon enough, why complicate things with this false end point about when we get to have adventures? I am in grad school and people actually ask me “What is the point at this stage in your life?”

THIS STAGE?!?!? What the fuck does that mean? This stage? You mean my dance-on-tables stage? You mean my ace-my-classes and get-As-on-all-my-papers stage? You mean my know-who-I-am-and-make-no-apologies-for-it stage? 

Because that is where I am right now motherfucker – not waiting around to die. Fuck that noise.

What’s that you say?

• Your sister calls you selfish and irresponsible for having a house cleaner? Fuck that noise. 
• Your husband asks you to quiet your laugh for business dinners? Fuck that noise. 
• Your co-worker tells a vaguely racist/sexist joke? Fuck that noise. 

FUCK THAT NOISE is actually a very healthy way to walk through the world, at least once you know what noise is. Noise is anything that works to make you feel badly. Guilt, shame, other people’s expectations, self doubt, and internalized self-hate promoted by institutions that seem to have a vested interest in you feeling less than. 

That is all noise, and it can fuck right the fuck off, please. 

So yes. I am almost 50. I am too old to be doing what I am doing.

People sometimes think I am too loud and too ridiculous, that I should be settled and raising my kids more conventionally, or that my hair should be a natural color and my clothes should be more suited to a woman of a certain age.

Maybe they’re right.

Just kidding. Fuck that noise.

Tell your friends...