I have to be honest and tell you I am not the hip 30 something woman you thought I was. I'm a SENIOR Citizen. God, that sounds horrible. I'm five short years from getting medicare, but I don't qualify for the senior tickets at the movies (thank God). I don't have a gray hair on my head, but my jaw line is slipping south.

I never thought I had a problem accepting my age. After all, I have worked hard to get here, so I should be proud of being 60, but it just doesn't jibe with me. I feel as far away from 60 as I do from being a cuddly bunnie rabbit. Sometimes my body tells me I'm that old, but I just slap it around a bit doing some exercise (not too strenuously, of course) and the old bones shape right up. Looking in the mirror is a bit frightening, but when I take my glasses off and everything has a nice blur, I like it much better.

This confessional was triggered from reading this in Coppyblogger. I've been blogging since I finished cancer treatment in July and have been casting about trying to find my 'voice' and niche ever since. Yes, I write a personal blog, but it's not like Fussy's or even Farmgirl Fare. You have very little idea what I do every day because I don't tell you, I'm fascinated by what other people do with their day, but bored chronicling my own life.

By coming out of my aging closet I have defined my niche - graceful aging. We are a clever, as well as dynamic group with a lot of political strength and much to offer younger generations if only they would listen. Now I have to find my voice - youhoo....