It’s generally accepted that Americans live in a youth-driven society. Beauty in our country is defined by perky boobs, toned arms, and butts like tiny peach pits. We take our kids to college and reminisce about bright, open-ended futures. We envy the possibilities of youth as much as we do their smooth, unlined faces. It can seem like the young truly do have it all.
But do they really? Is 20-40 the best time of your life, after which every birthday is another day spent sobbing into two pints of Ben & Jerry’s Scheddy Balls and a box of wine?
Hell, no.
While it’s true that during our twenties and thirties, it was possible to look fabulous in sweatpants and Uggs, and the world was pretty much our playground. But during that time, we also spent many years searching for “the one.” Countless awful dates, multiple crashed-and-burned relationships, and a few broken hearts, until we finally found that person we wanted to spend our life with. (Or at least the next four years, before you left his loser ass because he slept with Little Billy’s pre-school teacher.) Then the search began again.
After the second (and hopefully final) wedding, we began our new lives faced with mortgages, car payments, and massive student loans from that out-of-state college we just had to attend because our high school love, Biff, was enrolled there. (It didn’t matter to the Student Loan department that Biffy dumped us two years later. We still owed the money). We were building careers and juggling schedules. If we had children, there were 2,000 soccer games (1,999 of them in the rain), 18+ themed birthday parties (per kid), band lessons and ballet recitals, adorable toddlers who became uncommunicative teenagers seemingly overnight, their college expenses, and health insurance for everybody, including the dog.
Those decades were fun, but they were a lot of work.
This year, I will turn sixty. Nope, not fifty (the universally recognized middle-age birthday). 6-0. Sixty is not the new forty, or even the new fifty. It’s sixty. If I keeled over dead after breakfast, my kids would say, “She lived a full life.” But would I change it? Not a chance.
Old age brings its own rewards. If you’re not here yet, this is what you can look forward to:
Menopause. As in, it’s over. No more chronic fatigue. No more night sweats and sleeping on cold, wet sheets because you’re too exhausted to get up and change them. Again. No more mood swings that suddenly cause your Hubs to remember he has plans to go out with a buddy. Again. No more hot flashes. (You might consider circling through town and apologizing to all the waiters you screamed at because “It’s too damn hot in here!” I’m sending cards.)
Less worry about how things will turn out. By sixty, we pretty much know what we’re going to accomplish with our careers. We have a good bead on what our kids are going to be like as adults (since they already are). We’re either single or married, but either is probably by choice. Most of life’s Big Questions have been answered.
You don’t care as much about what others think. You can be you. Sing in your car. With the windows down. Funky dance in the park. Wear makeup every day. Or never. Wear yoga pants to church. Wear your motorcycle jacket with everything. Fly your freak flag whenever and wherever you want. Do you really care what that 50-year-old Zumba queen next to you is thinking as she watches you bust your goofiest moves? Tell her to lighten up and get out of the way, baby, because you do a mean gravevine.
You can wear comfortable shoes. Because we all know that life is better with happy feet.
You can ditch the minivan and get the car you actually want. A two-seater, bright red convertible sports car. Or maybe you think the neighbor’s tiny yellow electric car is the coolest thing ever. Yep, they’re both impractical as hell, but guess what? You’re sixty. Drive whatever the hell you want.
You never have to buy in bulk again. Cancel your Costco membership and start buying that wildly expensive, but oh-so-yummy fresh shrimp from the local Saturday market, because you’re no longer buying food for the entire Varsity football team. Added bonus: Your storage capacity will triple when every closet isn’t stuffed with jumbo-trons of toilet paper and ketchup.
You get to say No. “No, I can’t come over and help you find your son’s lost gerbil. I’m in the middle of Magic Mike.” “No, I’m not dog-sitting Sir Craps-a-Lot, because that’s what he does on my carpet every time he stays here.” “No, I can’t go out to dinner because I haven’t showered all day and I don’t plan to.” You’re not being selfish. You’re being honest. We can do that now.
We’ve come to terms with our bodies. In our younger years, we could measure the shifting of our body parts with the accuracy of a California geologist tracking the movements of tectonic plates. Now we know we can’t outrun gravity, and we begin to accept inevitable changes in our bodies. We’re more relaxed about what we can fix and what we can’t. And we’re over it.
You get to buy fun stuff. You already have a home, a car, and a savings account. And the kids have moved out (haven’t they?). Now you can buy all the cool crap you’ve always wanted, but had to back-burner because you were putting three mini-adults through college. It doesn’t have to be necessary. It just has to be you.
You get grandkids. Grandchildren, with that heart-melting clean-baby smell and those adorable faces. They love the bajeesus out of you, no matter what, because you’re…well, Grandma. You can love them, spoil them, and treat them like the little heirs to throne they are. Then you get to give them back to their original owners while you go get a massage. Best. Deal. Ever.
Yes, yes, and yes to all of the above! I’ll be 65 in 2 weeks and it’s amazing how free I feel because I don’t give a darn what anyone thinks of my clothes, weight, opinions, etc. My husband just bought me a really cool, bright red Fiat 500X and I love bombing around in it. No more station wagons. And in 1 month, I’ll have my first grandchild to enjoy. Can it get any better? Not. On. Your. Life.
Ryma, I love your life! A red Fiat AND a grandchild? You’re blessed, my friend. :)
Amen, sister! I’ll be 65 in April and am already doing the happy dance for having Medicare kick in. When you’re self-employed and pay a fortune for what’s basically catastrophe coverage, that’s huge!
You’re right, Kate! I guess we know we’re getting old when we can’t wait to turn 65 so we can get Medicare! :)
Thank-you Vikki for this funny, freedom shouting post. If I read one more thing about”Will You Have Enough Money for Your Life?” fear mongering thing I will burst!
Thanks, Haralee! Yes, sometimes we just need to look at the good side. What are our other options? :)
I’m so close I can taste it and I can’t wait!
Babs, I’m with you! Bring it on, life! :)
Now I feel bad for looking in the mirror and saying “you are 60! Freakin 60! Arggggh” I’d better rethink my 60 thing, I like your version better!
Cate, I’m practicing my mirror mantra for my next birthday. “You are 60 and FABULOUS.” Do you think it could work? :)
yes, I do think it will work! I’m going to try that mantra, too! You rock!
Kudos to you, Vicky! Wonderful post. I love that after 40, I finally gave up caring what other people think. Your post perfectly describes many of the things my mother told me when she hit the big 6-0. She’s 78 now and is loving every minute of it (minus minor, fortunately, health issues like taking bone density and cholesterol meds)! At 42, it’s a blessing for me to think of all the good things to come, not the things I’ll miss from my 20s and 30s. Thank you!
You’re welcome Marybeth! It’s wonderful to release so much anxiety with each passing year. By the big 6-0, we don’t really care anymore and we can just rock our rebel selves! :)
Thank you Vicki, it’s all true, I turned 60 in October, and I’m the best version of myself I think I’ll ever be. Though my life is not typical of a lot of people my age, late bloomer, I have 15 year old twins to raise, and divorced, it’s still liberating to leave a lot of those years behind.
You’re very welcome, Karen! Two teenagers? Oh my! The good news is that they’ll keep you young! :)
How funny….a bunch of us were just talking about this on Friday! And I totally agree with you….being younger was hard! Now, all I have to worry about is which body part is hurting! Although I disagree with the shoe thing—-to me they are the cherry on the top—heels, flats, or boots….as long as they look hot!
Thanks, Jodie! I miss my stilettos, but with Parkinson’s, I can topple off my Reeboks, so no heels anymore… Sigh. :)
Ha! I’m not quite there yet, but “fly your freak flag” cracked me up!!!
Thanks, Julie! Just you wait. You’ll be here before you know it (and it’ll be great)! :)
Have I told you lately how much I adore your writing?? Well :-) even if I did I am saying it again. And I’m sharing it again. Because you just make me smile and realize: I’ve got this thing :-)
Thank you, Carla! You’re one of my best supporters, and I love that you love my writing! :)
Awesome Vikki! I’m not there yet, but now I’m kinda jealous …
I love how you’ve turned it all around. It’s something to look forward to, and now I can’t wait!
Thanks, T.O.! There’s a lot to look forward to. We’ll see you over here on the other side! :)
Oh, yeah…love all these perks that come with achieving 60! The saying no part–without guilt–is especially delightful. Another fabulous post, Vikki!
Thank you, Roxanne! Sometimes we sound like 2-year-olds who have just learned a new word. “No, no, and no”! :)
You are so right. It has been a long bumpy flight, but finally it seems the turbulence is gone and it is smooth sailing. Dang, what was that? Uh oh, I thing the landing gear just dropped.
Cranky, you crack me up! “The landing gear just dropped.” Bahahahaha! :)
Such a great list! You are right on target with these! The only reason I would want to go back is to try to teach my 20 year old self all the things on this list would be so that I would have learned them already – been more relaxed about the silly stuff!
I agree, Ellen! It seems that youth is wasted on the young! :)
This is a wonderful post, and, oh, so true. Age somehow gives us the freedom to be who we are and to not care what others think. I have often thought that youth IS wasted on the young.
Nora, I said that exact same thing to Ellen Dolgen before I read your comment! Shared writer’s brain syndrome? :)
I wouldn’t want my twenties back for the world! Except maybe the abs.
Oh yes, I so agree – life does get less stressful with many rewards. I’ll be 55 this year and I have the grandkids, ability to buy fun stuff and say no, care less about what people think and I’ve been wearing comfy shoes for years. I cannot, however, wait for menopause to finish! This is a great post celebrating the freedom that age gives us.
Love this! I’m “only” 48 (well, in 2 weeks so I’m trying it on for size) but can relate to so much of this – comfy shoes, the car I WANT (a VW Beetle – old style – red!), pj’s all day and not wanting to leave the house because, well, I don’t want to. :)
You read my mind, touch my soul and always make me giggle! Thx!
You are making me look forward to 60. Only 20 years to go. I love this!!!
Well said! I turn 69 in two weeks and feel great. Not a bit afraid of turning 70 next year.
Right on babe and I’m 75!
I am 44, already a happy feeter and absolutely in love with my life after 40. Great article!