You be you

"Act your age."

In the long history of humankind, I don't think those words have ever been uttered as anything other than a soul-sucking threat. In fact, that phrase may very well be the ultimate party pooper, more effective, even, than lime jello with carrots.

Young or old, no one wants to be told to "act your age."

And, really, what does that mean anyway?

Act stereotypically? Live less large? Ignore your joy?

And no one should want to be the bearer of such dreaded expectations. It's one reason I occasionally remind my own children that it is never their job to take away someone else's joy. Usually, those reminders come when one of the kids is sharpening his or her tongue at someone else's expense.

And yes, I've whittled myself that very same tongue from time to time, caving to the low-bar desire to point out someone else's clumsy humanity.

. . . as though my Chic jeans are all that and then some. . . .

I have no idea what it means to act 49 and eleven months. I do, however, have a pretty good idea of what it means to act 'Jane Louise Raglin Holt." And, given the alternative--to behave in some sort of standard, predetermined, stiffly mature "50-ish" kind of way, I think I'll always prefer to act like me. warts and all.

. . . or maybe I should say "skin tags and all."

I'm as clumsy and complicated as they come. One minute, I'm farting like an 8-year-old boy. Another, I am staunchly defending the rightness of meeting deadlines. Some nights, I sleep like a 97-year-old woman. And, on crisp, Fall mornings, I tend to see God in the blanket of dew that sparkles in the sunlight. I love popping bubble wrap and busting a move to a funky song. And I still don't own a purse but I'll drop a pretty penny on a fine pair of shoes.

There are also those occasional times when I seem to absolutely stink at being me. Times when my skin feels all wrong and the colors of the world are a bit askance. These times never last, though. And, I suppose, they just bring out a different part of me--a sad, uncertain part that I just don't know very well.

Like I said, I am as clumsy and complicated as anyone.

As I hover at the half-century mark, I think it's time this old world and all the people in it--those quirky, complicated people who can't seem to rise to the standards we've set for them--would be better served if we just banned those three words "Act your age" and replaced them with something a little more honest and practical.

Something like "Be you." Because we're pretty much the only people who can act out that role with any kind of authenticity.