CARLTON FLETCHER: In the days of aging gracefully …

I’m older now and still running against the wind.

— Bob Seger

It’s a commonly accepted notion that women are vain about their age … and hair … and clothes … and feet … and fingernails … and eyelashes … and bra sizes …

And while there is no doubt a great deal of truth in that notion, depending, of course, on what particular woman you’re talking about, I’ve found that men are far vainer creatures than the so-called fairer sex.

How else do you explain elaborate comb-overs? Or middle-age-crazy sports cars? Or trophy wives? Or haircuts at “styling salons?” Or toupees? Or Grecian Formula? Or phrases like “throwing shade” or “crae-crae” coming out of the mouths of individuals who should never say such things and probably don’t even know what those phrases mean anyway? Or Viagra?

Years ago, there was a phrase that was popular among people who are not terrified of the inevitable: Aging gracefully.

What that is for those of us — like me — who aren’t hip to the latest new-age philosophies and who cut their own hair to save the $14 and because, well, what difference would it make anyway, is a more sophisticated admonition of something that most of us have been hearing at various points in our lives: Act your age.

“They” say things like “40 is the new 30,” “50 is the new 40,” “60 is the new 50” and “70 is the new 60.” (Which, given my poor math skills and even poorer social skills would work out to 10 being the new day of birth and 20 being the new 10. And, given the way many parents allow their children to skate through life with little or no home training and the way these spoiled brats behave, that actually sounds about right.)

I started thinking about these things as I listened to the inevitable “old man” jokes that came with the recent passage of another birthday. One of the things that really hit me is the way people in our country celebrate birthdays. Here’s my simple summary:

— Ages birth to 2: You could care less. You want food, a clean diaper and maybe something snuggly to curl up with at night, and you’re good. All those gifts that people shower you with? Meh.

— Ages 3-11: Now you’re in the primetime of birthdays. You understand things like cake and ice cream, presents, sleepovers, group events at entertainment centers or attractions. And the more people who make your party, the more presents you get.

— Ages 12-15: The dreaded ‘tween years. You want to get “grown-up” items for your birthday because you think you’ve attained wisdom that far surpasses your parents’ or any other grownup who dares try to tell you how to act. The gifts well-meaning parents and relatives get for you are “lame,” and any talk of a party that includes anyone other than your closest BFFs is lamer still.

— Ages 16-20: The second primetime for birthdays. If your folks are loaded and/or particularly guilty, this is the time they buy you (or go into major debt financing for you) cars, elaborate vacations, new wardrobes and other things your new status as a “young adult” entitles you to. Still, you wish for these prime years to pass quickly so you can claim your “adult” status and start doing only the things you want to do.

— Ages 21-30: You’re a big boy/girl now, and the gifts from admirers and/or stalkers can be exotic, creative and, in rare cases, fun and exactly what you want. Parents, maybe just starting to pay off their earlier elaborate gifts, can now go back into debt by buying/financing major purchases that help you on your way to your own path in life.

— Anything after age 30: Birthday? Don’t say that word! Why are you bringing that up? Do I have wrinkles? Is that a gray hair I see in the mirror? What have I even accomplished in my life? How did this get here so quickly? Can’t I go back to being 16 again and do this all over?

Sorry, guys, if the wisdom of countless beer commercials has taught us anything, it’s that “you only get one shot at life, so you have to grab for all the gusto while you can.” My suggestion? Embrace your age, whether it’s 33, 47, 55 or even 61. As more TV commercial wisdom pointed out for us ages ago, you may fool some equally desperate guy/girl with your new dye job, with your fancy sports car blasting rap music — ‘cause you’re hip like that — with your non-age-appropriate wardrobe and with your triple-decker comb-over, but you’ll never fool Mother Nature.

Email Carlton Fletcher at [email protected]. Follow @ABH_Fletcher on Twitter.