I was standing in front of the mirror one recent morning ó never a pleasant prospect before Iíve had a mug of coffee, or afterward, for that matter ó when the awful truth hit me.
At some point in the past few years, I began living the gray lifestyle.
Perhaps this was obvious to some of my acquaintances who noticed certain signs ó the beard … the hair … the increasing interest in rocking chairs and comfortable shoes ó but didnít want to make assumptions. Yet, like many creaky baby boomers trying to avoid truths theyíre afraid to acknowledge ó their retirement fund balances, for instance ó I was in denial.
The AARP magazine on the table? I only subscribe for the articles on low-salt diets and maintaining healthy gums, I told myself. I never look at the glossy foldouts of Florida retirement villas and Carnival cruise specials.
The Prilosec and Tums in the medicine cabinet? Not sure how they got there. Perhaps they were among the belongings I retrieved from the nursing home after my mother died. (Although she had a cast-iron stomach that easily processed onion-laden hot dogs and sweet-and-sour pork well into her 80s.)
The extra-strength reading glasses? My vision isnít getting worse. Theyíre just making the print smaller these days to conserve ink and paper. (Unfortunately, this trend extends beyond printed matter into the realm of appliance miniaturization. The other day, unable to find my reading glasses, I was complaining bitterly about how small the buttons are on cellphones until my wife pointed out I was madly punching at the TV remote.)
Previously, Iíd watched with sadness and disapproval as some of my acquaintances let themselves descend into the gray lifestyle. They developed an unnatural interest in senior discounts and test-driving Buicks. They began complaining about the sorry state of the younger generation and the lack of decent music on the radio. Their conversations turned from politics and sports to sleep aids, acid reflux and colonoscopy results.
Not me, I vowed. The gray life is a personal choice, not a biological imperative. I can stay the way I am, I told myself ó a little on the gray side, perhaps, but nothing that couldnít be controlled through will power, regular exercise and relaxed-fit Dockers.
Then reality intruded, joint by stiff joint.
I found myself waking up more frequently during the night ó and not because I had a sudden urge to binge on leftover pizza.
During shopping trips, people were increasingly inclined to ask if I needed assistance ó especially as I wandered the parking lot in search of my car.
I no longer needed to drink alcohol to get a buzz. I could just rise too quickly from my easy chair.
Upon seeing a young woman in a skimpy bikini, my first thought was that she probably needed more fiber in her diet.
When policemen pulled me over, it wasnít for speeding. It was to remind me to cut off my blinker.
Donít get me wrong. Taking up the gray lifestyle, as they say, beats the heck out of the alternative (which appears to be living in your parentsí spare bedroom while following Charlie Sheen on twitter). A lot more people are going gray these days. According to a recent Associated Press story, thousands of baby boomers turn 65 each day. By the year 2050, 20 percent of Americans will be senior citizens, and about 2 billion inhabits of the planet will be 60 or older. Depending on your perspective, this is either good news for the pharmaceutical industry or bad news for anyone hoping to get prime seats at Rolling Stones concerts. (The Stones apparently want to be the first band whose opening act is a defibrillator.)
Still, going gray can be a difficult transition. My advice is to make the change gradually. Eat a prune. Take an afternoon nap. Watch some ěMatlockî reruns. Try driving 35 in the passing lane.
Be aware that some people may try to tell you youíre not really gray ó youíre just having a ěsenior momentî or have fallen under the influence of the ěgray agenda.î They may urge you to try therapy ó or Botox.
Donít shut them out. As with any other major life change, itís important to maintain open communication with loved ones as you enter the gray phase of life.
A good hearing aid can help.

Chris Verner is editorial page editor of the Salisbury Post.