Today, my doctor joked with me about being 39. I told him I'm proud of my age. For one thing, after a cardiac arrest in 2008, I almost didn't make it this far, so I appreciate the years I've been given since. For another, my age gets me all sorts of benefits -- free rides on the public bus, gym memberships, discounts on hotel rooms and in a few restaurants, free or discounted admission to exhibitions and events, etc. I'm scheduled for surgery in a few weeks, after which I likely will need some help around the house temporarily. As an old bag, I found out I qualify for a program that provides volunteers to help with some of the chores. I wouldn't trade in being old for being young for all the money in the world.
Call me anything -- senior or old bag -- I really don't care. Just call me when dinner is ready.