Birth Date

I don’t like it when someone asks me for my date of birth.  My health plan, my credit card provider and others are always asking me to confirm that date to prove that I am who I say I am.  When I had surgery recently, several nurses and at least three doctors asked for my date of birth. (I know that it’s because they wanted to make sure they were performing the right procedure on the right person.)  Often I add a “regrettably” when I reply “2/17/38”.  And if the question is asked in person rather than on the telephone, I hope for a “Really? You don’t look that old!” response.

1938 sounds like ancient history in 2010. And more often than not (unless I am with Peter), I am the oldest person in any group.  That is why I am looking forward to April when Peter’s high school class has its reunion.  It seems to me that except for any trophy wives (or husbands) that might be there, I am going to be the spring chicken when the class of ’47 gets together.

I can’t wait.

Comments

[Kelly @ Impowerage]

I never would have guessed your age from your picture. I hope I look like you at 72 and am as active.