Middle? Age?

Its my birthday this week. I share the birthday weekend with a colleague and friend and we have always joked that the long weekend is cos it's our birthdays. This year happens to be my friends 60th and there is much excitement for her.  Discussing this with another colleague she asks 'how old are you?' '47' I admit reluctantly. Ah, you don't count, she says...

Don't count? Does this mean I have reached the nowhere land that is Middle Age? What the hell is 'middle age' anyway?   Am I actually somewhere slap bang in the middle of birth and death? Not cute and full of the potential and optimism of life left to the young.  Not wise and elegant and with the respect and pride left to the old. I now just am. Apparently at the peak of what I will be...well that's fucking depressing, I not sure I like it.  I'm not even sure why I've always dreaded being called middle aged.. It's so insulting. I'm quite looking forward to being old, cos then I can act atrociously and no one will care "when I am old, I shall wear purple" til then I'm going to suggest a new name for the M word... I'm going to call it Gloriously Divine! What do you think?