An age of change, or changing my age

I know so many of you are busy with your Groundhog's Day preparations, so I'll keep this short.

Short for me, anyway.

This February, Older Daughter will turn 23. That's fine for her -- but that's the age I've been using for... well, for a long time.

So at my next birthday, if I turn 23 again, it may seem strange (to some) that I have a child who's my age.

I admit, it has been getting harder and harder to persuade people that I really am 23. People used to ask, "What about the gray hair?" And I would say, well, I'm one of the Black Irish; we tend to gray early.

Now, though, they just laugh.

And when I explain that I went to grade school in the '60's and learned the New Math, and, using that, and Set Theory, I can prove that I'm 23, they laugh all the harder. Especially the ones who went to grade school in the 80's. Of course, they didn't have New Math, so what do they know?

People thought, when Older Daughter was 17 or 18, that I must be claiming to have been six or five when she was born. "New Math!" I say -- but they laugh again and I admit that, well, I was a child bride.

"Uh, weren't you the groom?" they retort.

Everyone's so picky.

So I suppose I'll have to start thinking about choosing a different age, although I don't see why. My mother claimed to be 21 until she died, many years after I stopped at 23. She didn't even have the benefit of the New Math.

But now when I get carded, people ask if I want the Senior Discount.

Once, when I was out with Older Daughter, a kid in a fast food restaurant applied the Senior Discount to my tab. He just assumed I was of age; he didn't ask. Older Daughter said I should complain. "Why?" I asked. "I just saved $1.42."

I could agree to turn 50 on my next birthday -- but that seems too old for me. It would be like admitting that the first third of my life was over.

So I'm thinking: Should I agree to turn 24 next time around? Or go all the way to 29?