We need to talk: I'm breaking up with....growing older.

Here’s a reality check: I’m done with “acting my age.” Whatever age that is supposed to mean. I’m ditching every dusty, outdated rule about what a woman “of a certain age” should or shouldn’t do because, quite frankly, I’m over it. Somewhere between crow’s feet and figuring out that every single joint in my body now has a specific opinion about how I sleep, I realized I’m not about to get boxed into anyone else’s expectations of aging. Not my family’s, not society’s, and definitely not the voice that lives in my own head, which every so often feels compelled to wonder if it’s “too late” for something or other.

Oh no, we're breaking up. And believe me, we are *never* getting back together.

I used to think there were these phases we’d just magically settle into, like “young and fearless,” “middle-aged and responsible,” “older and quietly sitting in the background while the world marches on.” But let me tell you, “quietly sitting” and “background” aren’t even in my vocabulary anymore. I think “background” is a setting on my phone, right? Because there’s no way it applies to me or anyone else who’s finally woken up to the fact that we’re growing bolder, not just older.

There’s strength in every damn crease in my skin and every bruise I get lifting something a little heavier than I thought I could. Because guess what? This body has carried me through life. This body has made me tough as nails, and I’ll take that over the fantasy of wrinkle-free skin any day. So yes, I’ve traded “acting my age” for something way more real: *being unapologetically who I am, right here, right now.* I’m lifting, I’m pushing myself, and I’m doing it without stopping every five seconds to wonder if I’m “too old” to even try.

Don’t get me wrong, I used to buy into the myth too. That invisible script that says women should dial down, turn inward, and just slip into a “dignified” form of non-existence. Which, can we just admit, is completely bonkers? I mean, that whole “aging gracefully” shtick sounds like code for shrinking away, quietly, with as little fuss as possible. *Who signed up for that?* Certainly not me.

And here’s the real kicker: once you toss out these outdated rules, you’re free to make your own. You get to define what success, strength, happiness, and excitement look like. I’m choosing a path where “too old” isn’t a part of my vocabulary, where “just getting started” can happen at any age, and where nobody’s telling me what’s “appropriate” for me.

So yeah, maybe I’m not “acting my age” by someone else’s standards. I’m not fading, I’m not tiptoeing, and I’m certainly not waiting for someone’s approval to be who I am and do what I want. Instead, I’m charging forward with all the strength I can muster, and if that strength happens to come with a few laugh lines, a gym full of free weights, and the occasional raised eyebrow from those who think women like us should be settling down by now — well, that’s just a bonus.

So here’s to anyone who’s decided that breaking up with aging means ditching apologies, ignoring “age boxes,” and proving to yourself that you’re still growing stronger, bolder, and unapologetically yourself. Because I am — and I’m only getting started.