Living in a country where life expectancy is 54 years, it may seem in bad taste to nurse even a whiff of ambivalence in one’s contemplation of their fiftieth birthday. But little else can truly be as ambivalent as the process of aging; from adoringly nurturing the early strands of grey in one’s 20s to observing, with a note of alarm, as nearly all the hair around a balding pate turn a sea of grey.
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Growing from being almost always the youngest in a room to mostly the oldest can really be a tough feeling to deal with. Yet, nothing can feel as blissful as the dignity that such transition confers. So, why does the onset of middle age seem like a dreadful thing sometimes?