60

 

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.