Journey Into Senior-citizenship

It was sometime in my 61st year. Standing at my bathroom mirror, doing my usual morning routime, (moisturizer, make-up hair, teeth,) when I realized I was not alone. There, looking at me from my mirror, was an old woman. I stared in disbelief and horror. For years I had been telling my friends "Never say your're old! Once you do, age has won!" But this day there was no denying it. That woman in the mirror was every bit of her 61 years. She was old! She was me! "When did this happen?" I cried. "I've been here the whole time." and yet I let it sneak up on me. It was too early in the morning to break out the tequila so I poured another cup of coffee and sat down to discuss the situation with myself. "We" finally decided that though this was inevitable, how I handle the years to come would determine how my friends and family and the public in general view the old lady wearing my face and using my name. Will I survive growing older? I hope so since there's only one alternative. So I have decided to run head long into old age; embrace it; cherish it; Claim it as my own. I intend to grin and bear it and try to rub that outlook off on others. Wish me luck!