Eva and Hagrid - separated at birth?

At age 44, I can comfortably call myself middle-aged; if I get another 44 years of life, that will be a fine lifespan. Being this age is like standing on a mountain peak and getting a good view all around, not only of my past life and career up to this date but of the prospects ahead, filled with exciting promise.

The enthusiasm and commitment of newly minted children's librarians delights and inspires me, while reminding me of how far I've come - and I have only to observe the glowing careers of those librarians who are retiring around me to see all that I have yet to accomplish. New vistas are opening up with every step and my life is ripe with opportunity.

And yet - one is aware that one is aging. Rapidly. Irrevocably. And one wants to swan through middle age and on into old age with grace and style.

Hmm. Unfortunately, my bone structure isn't suited to this, and those features of my anatomy that once might have been labeled girlish or lithe will translate soon enough into Skinny Old Ladyhood. My mother once told me that when faced with the dreaded specter of vanishing youth, she upgraded her wardrobe, figuring that dressing well was the best revenge. This idea has some merit - while a jeune fille can get away with wearing all matter of eccentric rags and tatters, a Woman of Years deserves a bit of dignity and quality. Yes, but I have never possessed much style and so don't think I can rely on good clothing as my armor against encroaching age.

What I do have is hair. Rapidly graying and rather bushy it might be, but there is a copious amount of it - and more with every passing day. Could this be the answer? I believe so. My viewings of all the Harry Potter films have been tinged with envy of Dumbledore's silky waterfall of white hair, and I have also admired Gandalf's dramatic white widow's peak and the way his white locks fly as he battles his enemies. Who doesn't want to look like a wise and powerful wizard? So - my goal is to achieve a wizard-like mane of lustrous, soft white hair (preferably waist-length), within ten years. Not only will this add Drama and Mystery to my otherwise wrinkly, skinny, humdrum appearance, but if I braid my hair and wrap those 2-foot-long braids around my head, I'll look appropriately cozy and fairy-tale-grandmotherly to any future grandkids. Or completely freaky. But anyway, I do bake a mean batch of cookies and will read aloud for hours, so they'll love me no matter what.

Ten years may be too optimistic. Right now, I don't resemble Dumbledore so much as Hagrid - especially before I've had my morning coffee. But with a bit more length, a bit more whiteness, and plenty of heavy-duty hair smoothing products, I'll be well on my way to Wizardly Wisdom.