Back in my mid-20s, I used to work for one of the big bookstore chains. One of my fellow employees was this woman whom I absolutely loved. She was smart, cool, artistic, and just fun to be around. She was also clearly a lot older than I was, though her exact age would have been hard to gage–could have been anywhere from late 50s to late 60s. I didn’t really think about this much; I knew we weren’t the same age, but it seemed irrelevant. I just enjoyed her company.

Anyway, we used to talk a lot and she was a very open person; she wasn’t scared to share her views or her history, even when either was unconventional. So I was surprised when one day in the context of a conversation I asked her what her age was, and she refused to tell me. I told her it didn’t matter to me, and she still refused to share the info. At the time, I found this both surprising and a little insulting–did she think I would judge her based on her age? I reassured her again it didn’t matter to me, and said I thought it was strange that she could be open about so many things, but this one thing, which I felt was of little consequence, she wouldn’t discuss. She said something like, “I don’t really share that, because people change when they know my age. I’d rather you just relate to me without a number attached.” I let it drop and never brought it up again, but I thought for years that she was being silly. I thought to myself that when I got older I’d never do that; that I’d always be proud of my age and announce it freely.

Turns out that’s a pretty easy proclamation to make when you’re 23. Also turns out that at 40, I am starting to grasp why my friend wouldn’t share her info.

I turned 40 last summer. By all accounts, I look and act much younger than what people’s conception of 40 is. In general, people tend to assume that I’m about 8-10 years younger than I am. I have good genetics that way; all of my family looks younger than their age. And having made some lifestyle choices that buck the standard “middle-aged, suburban soccer mom” trend, people also tend to assume from my lifestyle that I’m younger than I am.

I’m not embarrassed to be 40. I like it. And, to cop a phrase from Gloria Steinem, when people say, “Wow, you don’t look/seem 40,” I always want to say to them, “No, you’re mistaken. This is what 40 looks like [also].”

But I’ve begun to notice some significant differences in people’s reactions to my age when I reveal it now. When I was in my 20s, and even in my 30s, people would sometimes act surprised at hearing what my real age was, but there seemed to be no concept attached to it. It really does feel like the word “forty” is some cross-over threshold in people’s minds. I am currently friendly with people of many ages–some almost 20 years younger than I am; some nearing 20 years older. I don’t really notice this stuff most of the time. But I have noticed a new level of reaction/response when I share my age now, particularly with people younger than I am. I sometimes feel like people suddenly put a little bit of a wall up–like if I tell someone who is an acquaintance my age before I have gotten very friendly with them, they suddenly pull back, thinking “oh, not in my age bracket; we can’t have anything in common.” I also run into situations where I refer to a pop culture reference that some of my friends and acquaintances are too young to know. Sometimes–not always, but sometimes–I feel like the air gets uncomfortable around that.

Not everyone’s been like that. I’ve made some friends recently who younger than I am and are well aware of my age and seem to have no issues with it. But sometimes it felt at the start like some of them had to “train” themselves not to have issues with it. And occasionally the topic comes up in weird ways, “Someone your age wouldn’t [fill in some weird assumption or other].”

I can’t say I’ve been entirely innocent of some of this behavior myself. I can remember having older coworkers who seemed to have trouble with computer issues, for instance, and I automatically assumed their age made comprehension more difficult for them; and that they might not be able to get up to speed on modern stuff too fast.

I think about that sometimes. Not often, but it’s begun to occur to me for the first time in my life. Professionally, will people begin to think my age indicates a lack of being “plugged in;” that it will mean I’m not “cutting edge” enough to be able to think up new, viable ideas? Will I begin to be discounted and devalued, just because of a stupid number? And if I don’t always want to be involved with the new-new thing, will I be unable to survive and support myself?

I don’t know the answers to these. And I feel that all I can do is be myself and know my capabilities, and assume that other people will come around to seeing what they are, despite possible initial prejudices.

I also still tell myself I am proud I’m 40, and I have no need to hide it from anyone, and people can learn from me to be proud of who they are at any age. I still tell myself I want to proudly announce my age when I’m in my 50s, and 60s, and 70s and beyond.

But these days I also have suddenly had thoughts where I think, “You know, my friend at the bookstore might have had a point. Maybe I want to do that, too.” Some days I think it might be better. Not to LIE about my age and say I’m younger than I am (which I could get away with, but refuse to do)–but to just refuse to share it. To let the person I’m talking to think whatever they want to, and relate to me without the added information. 

I think now that it wasn’t that my friend was ashamed of her age at all–that she was fine with it. That it wasn’t about that old stupid saying, “A lady never reveals her age.” It wasn’t about her femininity o need to be seen as young.

I think that maybe even though she was fine with it for herself, perhaps she just wanted to protect herself from a world that is sometimes not fine with it. That she preferred to be ageless, not pinpointed in time. Which is, quite honestly, how I feel. I don’t feel a particular age. I feel ageless.

I suppose that’s an answer I can give, “I am ageless.” But on the other hand, it may sound a bit…precious to say something like that. 

So here I am at 40, starting to realize that age both doesn’t and can sometimes matter, in different ways, depending on how I want to look at it. And I’m now contemplating two diametrically opposed things. Part of me wants to honor my feeling of agelessness and not label myself with a number (seriously, I hate numbers and labels of all sorts, really). But another part of me wants to proudly proclaim what age I am and blow away stereotypes and fuck anyone who can’t handle it or can’t see past it; their problem, not mine.

Have any of you ever thought about this kind of thing? What are your thoughts on it?  How do you handle the age thing? Have you ever made assumptions about someone based on their age?