I turned 54 this weekend. That means I’m just one year from officially being an Old.

This determination is not based on how I personally feel about my transition from viable human to unsettling crone, but on how other people — specifically television advertisers — feel about me.

I have officially begun my last year in the so-called “key demographic” of 18-54, the age group most coveted by those advertisers. I may still be desirable to men, but the people who want to sell me stuff are now solely focused on the younger women in the room. Disrespectful!

I know youth is king and the rest of us are ancient dowagers grasping for relevance and no longer allowed on the royal balcony for official photos. But to paraphrase the Beatles: Will you still need me, or spend bucks to feed me, when I’m 54?

The so-called key demographic “leaves out those ages birth to 24. And ages 55 until one ‘buys the farm,’ ‘kicks the bucket’ or merely expires,” Justin Holloway wrote in the Abilene Reporter News in 2017. “I would submit after age 54, in real world demographics, I am reckoned ‘expired’ anyway.”

TV advertising — any advertising, really — is about money and figuring out how to get the people who watch a specific sort of show to spend the most of it.

There’s always a target. The shows my fifth-grader watches on the Disney Channel usually have ads for toys and other TV series on the network. During the traditional workday, you might see commercials from nonlawyer spokespeople looking for participants in class action lawsuits, or JG Wentworth, which helps you get money for a structured settlement when you “need cash now” (and are, perhaps, ready to sing about it on a bus).

Increasingly, I find that the ads featured during the programs I watch, which tend to be police procedurals or shows targeted to middle-aged women like “Elsbeth” and “Matlock,” are about menopause, anti-aging facial products and how shingles doesn’t care about your frigging girls’ trip.

I like being this age, when I am more secure in my finances, employment and general sense of self. It’s an honor to get older. One of my most-offered pieces of advice is to not make youth your whole personality, because if you’re lucky, you’re going to get old, and then who are you?

Admittedly, being young is also wonderful, with the smooth skin, strong knees, good metabolism and the natural confidence that comes from not being proven wrong yet. Who wouldn’t want to appeal to that group of people, particularly if they have disposable income and are highly influenced by media to tell them what to buy to stay hip?

I was not the most confident in my looks in my 20s, but I look back at photos of my flat stomach and arms so toned that my sister called my place “Leslie’s House of Tank Tops” and I think, “Wow, that was cool.”

It’s probably silly, because, again, aging doesn’t bother me. I am no longer the target demo for clubbing or music festivals. This suits me fine because I no longer have the urge to leave my house after 8 p.m. or be in crowds where I might be expected to dance or get low. My knees are bad and I’d need a crane to get me back up. I did that. I’m good. Y’all can have that.

I guess this key demographic thing is just another reminder that children get older, and I’m getting older, too, as Stevie Nicks once sang. And that means the things I want to buy are different than what I wanted back in the day.

I still am known to wear a tank top every once in a while. I just might put a sweater over it.