I am 44 years old and I might be the only woman I know who doesn’t mind getting older. In fact, I relish it. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not fond of everything that comes with it. My hips hurt. My eyesight is getting worse. I’m forced to decide between a glass of wine or a sleepless night. Gray hair, not-so-fine lines and deep wrinkles are certainly humbling. Oh, and my moisturizers are now more expensive than they’ve ever been. None of this is fun. But aging has given me something that I didn’t