For the past five years, I have been living a double life. Judy with a 'y' during the day at my corporate workplace and Judi with an 'i" at night at home on the computer.

A few years ago -- around the time I was turning 50 and trying to come to grips with the changes my body, mind and life were going through -- I decided to start running, against my better judgment.

I'm going to wear my pearls this Sunday in honor of my mom, whose name was Pearl. She was a true gem of a mom and a gem of a person. My world will be forever bright because of her. Her love will always shine with me, as will the memories.

Let me tell you the truth about growing younger instead of aging: It's impossible (no matter what marketers tell you). Keeping my "biological" age a secret makes me feel like I have something to be ashamed of, which I don't.

As a member of the sandwich generation worrying about my adult kids (I'm a mom and I have to worry about my kids even if they are all grown up) and worrying about my elderly mom (who has been ill since the New Year), I often forget to give my own body the "body care" it needs.

Why does it sometimes seem as though the medical community purposely wants to confuse, confound and worry us with a continuous flow of reports that are often at odds?

With over 100 dates under my belt, I recently concluded a year of online dating. Whew, it was rough.

It's no secret that many women over 50, even if we've been thin all our lives, can easily pack on a few extra post-menopausal pounds, without trying too hard. The weight can sometimes slowly creep up on us over a span of years, taking us by surprise, and before you know it . . . poof! . . . we're an "apple."

Growing up in 1960s Brooklyn, TV viewing in my house was simple and predictable: Friday nights found us turning on 'The Addams Family' (accompanied by Swanson TV Dinners to round out the experience), and Sundays (our family's favorite TV night) featured 'Wild Kingdom.'

A few weeks ago I turned 56. To commemorate and celebrate, I ran 5.6 miles around Central Park. It felt good knowing I could run that distance and still be fit enough to join my husband and daughters at a birthday dinner downtown a few hours later. That's a sea change from when I turned 50.

The nest was full this past week with my two adult children, my daughter A and my son D as they arrived from the big city to visit with me in the suburbs. I was so pleased to have them home ... to enjoy their company and to 'break bread' with those I love.

Some great news was just released that is sure to make big believers in the power of vitamin D smile... and maybe just a little smug.

Up until a recent study was published, those of us over 50 were assured that if we moderately cut back our food portions, decreased our calories and exercised for a half hour, four to five times a week, we could keep at bay the extra body fat that creeps in after menopause.

We are part of the largest demographic in the history of the world. We are a political powerhouse and an economic force.

Hurricane Sandy has reminded me to show more gratitude during my life after 50.

Enough already with the negative news. Instead of dwelling on the bad stuff (or Kim Kardashian), let's focus on a few things every day that will make us say 'Yay!'

I agree with Delia Ephron; there is nothing like a good blow dry or a fabulous haircut or a perfect set of highlights to cheer me up when I'm down.

The key to beating osteoporosis is doing a few simple things that will keep your bones strong: eat calcium-rich foods, get an adequate amount of Vitamin D, and do strength-training exercises several times a week.

I did finally read all 2000+ pages of my September fall fashion magazines -- Vogue , InStyle, Allure, T- The New York Times Style Magazine --- so I do feel qualified to report on what stylish boomer girls should be wearing when the weather cools down.

News flash: Embracing your age and wanting to feel pretty are not mutually exclusive.

When I turned 50 a few years ago, I looked in the mirror and said, "Now what?"

I was mystified why this lovely woman on the other end of the phone -- whom I'd never even met -- would call me a "crone" with such glee in her voice.