TELL ME AGAIN TO ACT MY AGE, I DOUBLE-DOG DARE YOU

ME, PONDERING THE TRUE MEANING 
of the phrase "act your age," as well as 
the many ways one could neuter a person 
without having to go to jail for it.

A certain person who is very lucky to have escaped with his testicles intact told me to act my age today. He's not the first person to say it and he probably won't be the last. In fact, I hear the phrase "act your age" a lot.

I'm not sure whether it's my youthful good looks, my fashion choices or my taste in music that bring on this unasked-for advice, but regardless, my response is always the same: "You do realize I'm 28, right?"

I'm kidding; I'll be 27 in June. What I actually say is "Come here and say that." 
It's a very effective response that usually banishes the adviser with some alacrity. People often don't back their nosiness up with the requisite cajones, I find. (No, I am not back on the weekday hooch, but thank you for suspecting it. The goal was to lose pounds, not my edge.)
But I will admit it makes me think. I mean, what the hell DOES "act your age" even mean?

Does it mean I should be wrinklier and grumpier?
Does it mean I should I take up crossword puzzles and give up body pump classes?
Or is what they're saying coming from a crueler place? Stop colouring your hair. Stop wearing trendy clothes. Stop getting your nails done. Stop wearing heels that would cripple most women half your age. Stop having fun and start worrying about your mortgage. And above all, just settle the hell down. 

I suspect it is exactly these last few items.
Because what's really going on here is a mix of jealousy, disapproval and women-hating, three things women have grappled with for as long as there've been women and men and Donald Trump.
I've never listened, indeed I listen a little bit less with every passing year. But now I've got the attitude to back it up. You think my pink feathered shoes are ridiculous? Well guess what? You have man boobs. Do I tell you to stop acting your age? You're boring? Your clothes are frumpy? You need to do something about your midsection? Or, perhaps most succinctly: Mind your own damn business? No I do not. 
But come to think of it, maybe I will. Maybe I just goddam well will. Because I let a certain someone out there get away with his testicles intact today. Tomorrow, he might not be so lucky.

EDITOR'S NOTE: *covers crotch anxiously* Er, I would just like to state for the record that it was NOT I who told her to act her age. 
MY NOTE: Oh no need to worry, editor. Everybody knows you don't have testicles.