“Are you a senior citizen?” the sales clerk at the department store kindly asked me as I was paying for the first additions to the new spring wardrobes for the toddlers.

I hesitated.

I hadn’t really thought about it before, or at least, not lately.

Then I looked around at the other people standing in line to see if they heard the clerk’s question. I guess I wanted to see if there was a non-verbal consensus on what the answer should be.

“On Tuesdays senior citizens get a discount on all purchases,” the clerk continued.

“Absolutely,” I replied, no longer interested in the unspoken opinion of the other people standing in line.

“Yes, I am definitely a senior citizen,” I reiterated to the sales clerk.

As I left the store the sales clerk’s question was still nagging at me even though I had just saved $15 on my purchase.

My mind began to spin. I began to obsess about the clerk’s question.

Am I a senior citizen? Am I a senior citizen? Am I a senior citizen?

I don’t feel like a senior citizen.

But I really don’t actually know what being a senior citizen is supposed to feel like.

Does a senior citizen feel grouchy, irritable and achy? Maybe a senior citizen feels rested, relaxed, and satisfied.

Am I a senior citizen? Am I a senior citizen? Am I a senior citizen?

A few months ago I was suffering from a mid-life crisis (see this post). Now I’m suffering from an identity crisis!

But, maybe the former is indicative of the latter…

I was suffering from a mid-life crisis so that must mean I am getting old (i.e., “mid-life”).

And if I’m getting old, then I must be a senior citizen.

And if I don’t know if I’m a senior citizen or not, then I must be suffering from an identity crisis!

Am I a senior citizen? Am I a senior citizen? Am I senior citizen?

My identity crisis is exacerbated by the fact that most of the people I hang with certainly aren’t senior citizens.

But, I’m always around young moms and dads who are taking their kids to school, sports and play at the park or shopping for kids clothing.

I don’t really think of myself as a senior citizen.

I think of myself as a parent with young children.

But, I must look somewhat like a senior citizen or the sales clerk wouldn’t have asked.

So, maybe there is a resolution to my identity crisis.

I’m not really a senior citizen except when there’s a discount involved.

Then I definitely am!