A few months ago, I read in Allure that Julianne Moore thinks middle age starts at thirty-five. Since my thirty-fifth birthday is tomorrow, my jaw dropped open when I read that, as I generally think of graying Baby Boomers as being middle-aged, not active Gen Xers like myself. Interestingly, Ms. Moore's rationale as to who deserved the moniker of middle-age was to simply double one's current age:
"I'm always shocked by people who talk about not being middle-aged," Moore tells the magazine. "I'm like, 'How old do you think you're going to live? Let's double your age and see where you get.' People are always like, 'Thirty-five is not middle-aged.' I'm like, 'Double it.'"
Provided my good health continues, I hope to live much longer than 70 years old...but I get Ms. Moore's point. Still, I find comfort in the adage, "You're as young as you feel," since when you have a two-year old, the everyday silliness factor is upped considerably. And while there are days when I feel every second of my thirty-five years (and then some), after seeing the below, I've decided that I do not yet qualify as middle-aged. Why? I identify with exactly zero of these points. Hooray!
So yes, I keep searching for the fountain of youth (in other words: an effective wrinkle cream). But middle-aged? Nope. Ask me again in ten years, and I'll see if I feel any differently.