Just when I had fully relaxed into my middle-age status, a complication arose.
Today, an extended survey I found in U.S. News & World Report told me that I'm not 52.3 years old (my chronological age) but rather that I have a REAL age of 46.3 years.
I truly don't know what to do.
This computation is based on an elaborate, multi-page survey. Wanting to know the complete dirty truth, I was fully, brutally honest, even. I was forthwith about my weight (which is fine if I was 6 ft. 3" tall; unfortunately I'm 5 ft 8"), and about the fact that my cholesterol and blood pressure are just a touch on the high side, though not so much that I need medication for it.
I was ruthlessly honest about the red meat I eat, and about the fact that I do no weight-training workouts whatsoever. I truthfully indicated that I have a nasty sweet tooth. I 'fessed up to my occasional insomnia, my allergies, the arthritis beginning in my feet.
I was honest about every last thing they asked.
But it appears I have enough healthy habits to more than compensate for these vices. I clicked the smallest option for number of alcoholic drinks per day (I'm more like one drink a week, much less per day). I walk somewhere between 20 and 3o miles a week. And my fondness for cheeseburgers is apparently neutralized by the nuts, grains, and vegetables I happily eat.
Now, although it's not a terrible thing to actually be younger than I am, it does leave me with a dilemma. I was very much looking forward to the senior citizen discounts I technically become eligible for when I'm 55 years old. Just what am I to do in 2.7 years? I don't lie easily, and if I say 55, when in reality I'm 49, I'm sure to get busted.
And now, do you suppose I'll have to send back my AARP membership card?