You Don't Look Your Age

I am going to say it out loud.  I am turning 60 in two weeks and I can hardly believe it.  I think I felt this way when I turned 30, then 40.  Fifty I believed, even wore, proudly, but 60?  That is seriously into “senior” category, and that certainly puts the fear of goddess into me.

 

I am told often, “You don’t look your age” and always take it as a compliment and a tribute to genes, avoidance of sun and use of expensive skin and hair products since my early 30’s.  I do recognize that the compliment is an obvious example of the value we place in youth and youthful appearance. 

But I also am finally willing and able to accept the compliment for the spirit with which I approach life.  And that’s a choice.

 Just the other evening, I was dining at the bar of a noisy, crowded Nashville restaurant, surrounded mostly by 20 and 30-somethings in tight little dresses.  Just behind me, though, was another woman, whose overheard conversation revealed that she was 61.  As she carried on and on about her ailments and her complaints, I turned around to look, and man, did she “look her age”.  At 61, everything she projected  was that she has given up, settled in, grown comfortable in her oldness with little energy for looking forward.  That is her choice.

Contrast that with Bonnie Raitt, who I saw in concert last month.  She was hot, strutting, confident; who ever noticed that Bonnie couldn’t hit certain notes any more.  She wasn’t talking about it, but rather was celebrating every moment on that stage and every moment that has gotten her to where she is now.

Bonnie is my role model as I cross into this new age decade.  My latest cowboy boots are coming along for the ride, and I hope I am always told that I don’t look my age, regardless of how I actually look.