I am the first to
admit, I hate aging. My feet are achy as
soon as they hit the floor in the morning, my back sporadically hurts, and my
knees sound like a bowl of rice krispies. Throw in some hot flashes for good
measure, thinning eyebrows, and more grays than I’d like to admit. Yep, sounds
like 50 is off to a great start. Nevertheless, when I backtrack to the shadow
of my former, younger self, I realize that 50 definitely has its merits.
The Twenties
I use to roll my eyes
at women in the salon who were getting their hair colored and I adamantly swore
I would go natural when the time came. Of course, when the grays started to
come a little more fast and furious than I would have liked, I went straight to
the colorist. Clearly, my twenty-year
old self had no idea what lay ahead. While the twenties were fun, I always felt
like something bigger yet inaccessable lay ahead. Being on the cusp
of creating a life for myself was exciting and nerve wracking at the same time. I worried about career choices and independence. Still plagued with PRTD (post residual teen drama) I obsessed about what ifs,
why don’t they like me, why aren’t they calling me which would be the equivalent of why didn't they text me back in today's scenario.
The Thirties
My thirty self didn’t
really think about age.Thirties were the beginning of my life, marriage, new
house, and I was way too absorbed in processing these huge changes.
The Forties
Ahhh, the 40’s. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t love my forties
so much. Most of the physical changes I complain about started back then and
took nearly a decade to resolve. I also didn’t like that I was on the other end
of the spectrum at the OB/GYN- emphasis on the GYN because OB didn’t apply
anymore. My kids were getting older, my face was stating to show signs of aging and if my night cream could talk, it would say, “what the hell
happened?” Emotionally, forties is a crossroad for many. Some have mid- life
crises and I am no different. My writing was stalled, I had no career, my kids
didn’t need me as much and I knew that college was looming in a few short
years. Fifty was creeping up and always taunting me in the background like an invisible forcefield. I didn’t want to be fifty. The number itself represented my life being
half over, glass half empty. I desperately wanted to accomplish something big
before AARP invited me to the party and my daughter went away to college.
The Fifties
Here I am. Fifty isn’t so bad. In fact, I would venture to
say, it started out way better than the decade before. Whoever coined the
phrase 50 is the new 40 was probably a 30 something bemoaning the fact that
they too will one day be 50 and needed to justify the aging process.I know I clung to adages like that one. I came to 50 kicking and screaming, but now
that I’m here, I’m actually okay. In the first few months of being 50, I
published my children’s book and started a new career in fitness and nutrition.
Fifty is truly the crossroads, where many decide to change for the second act
of their lives.
Fifty represents clarity. I look at my daughter and all the
teen angst, insecurity and drama that goes along with it. I see myself at that
age, and wish she would believe me when I tell her that at some point, none of
it makes a difference. I am the ghost of the future telling her, in real time,
but I suppose she has to follow her own chronological journey. But if she took
one thing away from my experiences, I wish it to be the fact that we don’t have
time to worry about who doesn’t like us and that we should be busy loving
the people who love us. There’s a 50ism for ya.
WHY CAN'T 50 JUST BE THE NEW 50?
Here’s the thing. Why can’t 50 just be the new 50? Truthfully,
the 50-year old’s of today, are very different than the generation of 50’s
before us. It’s true. I am a very different 50 than my mother was. There is
more available to us now than ever before. We have access to so much abundance
regarding healthier food, information, safer hair color and way better
moisturizers. We choose differently in terms of careers, life choices etc. So, why can’t the age of 50 be the new
standard? Why do we have to quantify it by trying to be the people we were in
our 40’s?
I’m not glossing over the fact that aging isn’t easy. Fifty
represents menopause, colonoscopies, shingles, cholesterol, osteoporosis, and
the depressing list goes on. But more often than not, I feel like the same fun
person I was in high school but with better fashion sense and wisdom, so I try
to focus on that, and not what my bloodwork reveals (event though I get mad
every time).
We all want to feel
relevant but there is a reality that no matter how good one feels about
oneself, there are going to be times where we are aged out of a job, or the
checkout kid calls you “mam!” UGH, I hate the mam, but what should they call you? “Hey sexy, you want me to bag those apples
for you?” That’s even worse. So, mam it is. We are a youth obsessed society and admittedly,
when I see an upcoming, youthful actress- I sardonically think, “well one day
you will be old.” I know, totally immature, but c’mon you think it too.
So, the point is, it’s okay to want to look better, we all
do. There is no judgement if you color your hair, or get Botox, if it makes you
feel better, then so be it. But, at the
end of the day, your chronological age is only going up and nothing can change
that. We can complain, even vent, but
wishing for the days of yore as opposed to making our present the best it can
be is soooo 40’s.
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