Comedienne
Joan Rivers once told the story of asking a flight attendant where she could find
her seat. The attendant looked her over and replied, “A quarter inch lower than
last year.”
Welcome
to my 60s.
The
only way I’ll get through the next ten years is by acknowledging from the start
that I’ve never been here before. In theory, that should make it easier to
accept the changes that have already begun to happen. I still have most of my
own teeth, though for how long remains to be seen. I lost two-thirds of a
bridge last year, so methinks some sort of partial lurks in my not-so-distant
future. I am also nearing the end of my tenure as a BC public servant., since I
intend on retiring sometime in the next few years. My skin is drier and not as
firm as it was when an abundance of estrogen ruled my life, my hair is growing
naturally paler by the day, and my prescription lenses are marginally thicker
than their predecessors.
When
did all this stuff happen? And how do I proceed gracefully when the face in the
mirror no longer elicits an astonished “You’re how old? You don’t look it!” when the subject comes up in
conversation.
With
luck, it won’t come up at all.
I’ve
known some truly cool seniors. I’m even related to a few of them! Sixty years old
in 2021 does not look the same as sixty years old looked in, say, the 1960s.
Despite residing in the body of a 70 year old for most of my life (thanks,
arthritis!), things will definitely be different from now on. They’re already
different from how they were; I’m just not sure when it happened. And I haven’t changed ... I don’t think.
Okay,
maybe I’m a tad more cautious than I used to be. I’m more inclined to think
twice before stepping out. In fact, I’ll often think thrice to be sure I got it
right the first two times. I’m not as flexible as I was in my youth—and I don’t
just mean physically. I do like my routine (when I can have one). I like
sticking close to home, I don’t like crowds, I sometimes turn off the music to
hear the silence ... but I’ve always liked sticking close to home, I’ve never
liked crowds, and I’ve often turned off the music when I’m home alone. I guess
that’s just me.
As
for Ru herself, well, I reckon I’ve grown somewhat wiser, hopefully kinder, a
little crankier, more honest, less judge-y, happier with enough, and more
comfortable with all of it.
Happy birthday, old girl. You’ve never been better.
