Turning 50

So, I'm Turing 50 this month.

Fifty.

Five. Zero.

That’s not a number—that’s a statement. That’s the universe tapping you on the shoulder like, “Hey, buddy... remember when your back didn’t make noises when you got out of bed? Yeah. That’s over now.”

Look, I’m not saying 50 is old. I’m just saying... stuff changes. Like overnight. You wake up one day and suddenly your knees sound like microwave popcorn. You go to tie your shoe and it feels like you’re doing Olympic-level yoga. I bent over to grab a sock the other day and had to make life decisions at the halfway point. "Do I really need both socks? Can I just wear slides?"

And don’t even get me started on the doctor visits. When you’re 20, you go to the doctor and they’re like, “You’re good! Get out of here.” At 50? They bring in specialists. I went in for a sore throat and somehow ended up with a colonoscopy scheduled. What the hell kind of detour is that?

Everything’s a little more fragile too. Hangovers at 50? That’s a week long event. You drink two beers and wake up feelin’ like you went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson while someone yelled taxes in your ear. And spicy food? Forget about it. I look at a jalapeño wrong and my digestive tract starts negotiating peace treaties.

But here’s the real kicker—people start treating you different. Like you’ve entered some secret club of “grown-ups who know things.” Suddenly people are asking you for advice like you’re Obi-Wan or some kind of wise old Jedi. “How’d you stay married?” “What’s the secret to happiness?” I don’t know! I’ve been winging it since Clinton was president!

And all these self-help gurus wanna sell you the idea that 50 is the “new 30.” No, it’s not. Stop lying. When I was 30, I could eat a whole pizza, sleep 4 hours, and run a 5K just to show off. At 50? I eat two slices and I need a nap, a Tums, and a blood pressure check. The only thing 50 is “new” for is forgetting why I walked into a room.

But here’s the thing—I wouldn’t trade it. Because once you hit 50, you stop giving a damn about the dumb stuff. You know who you are. You know what matters. You know how to say “no” without feeling guilty, and “yes” without needing to post about it on Instagram. And that? That’s power, my friends.

So yeah, turning 50 is weird. It's like getting a software update with no patch notes. Stuff crashes, you reboot slower, but you’ve got wisdom and a whole lot more don’t-care energy. And honestly? That might be the best part of all.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a heating pad to plug in and pills to take.

God help me, I’ve become that guy.