Well, I'm not up to that half-century mark yet. I'm thirty...something...hang on...I have to look at my license since I don't keep track anymore. I don't want to do the math, so we'll just say I'm between thirty and dead, and probably look closer to dead. Bald. A little pudgy. Hairy. Grey creeping into my beard. When I get out of bed it sounds like someone is stepping on bubblewrap. I limp. Buzzards follow me around. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Long story short, I'm not that old, but I'm aging like a banana.

I get more odd looks in a non-tartan kilt than I do when wrapped in something more traditional. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm obviously not in my twenties. I wonder if maybe I'm too old for it. Then I wonder if maybe I should just run with the idea. That must be it! I'm doing it half-a$$! I can't just wear a modern kilt--I need to look like a cross between Johnny Rotten, Dogg the Bounty Hunter and some dude from Mad Max in a kilt! Maybe I need to sport some tattoos to better fit the part. That should work. I'll get a nose ring too! Yeah, and I'll grow a mohawk! A foot tall mohawk! And dye it bright blue! Then I suddenly remember that a mohawk requires having hair on top of the head and only and "old guy" would ever say "sport some tattoos to better fit the part." Then I notice that I'm dragging three feet of toilet paper stuck to my boot heel and I got all worked up about nothing.

When someone, young or old, says that maybe you're too old to wear that thing, just echo the wise words of Joe DIrt:
They don't really mean what they say. They just got their own issues and whatnot. Alls I gotta do is keep bein' a good person, no matter what. Good things will come my way. Cause I'm Alan H!!