I could not possibly care less about the deep crevices on my face or the wrinkled curtain hanging around my neck. I have earned every single one of my worry lines and laugh lines. I even embrace the tear stains that no one can see except me.
In a week or so I will be 56 years young.
I now look so differently at aging.
For example, when I was a smart aleck high school student, I expected my 50ish teachers to croak at any moment, preferably right before a pop quiz.
Now that I am winking at 60, I see that I am absolutely nothing like my teachers were. They acted and dressed old. I still act like a maniac. And I don’t want to fix that.
Grandparents of yesterday and those of today are day and night too.
Today’s grannies live loudly, passionately. They have absolutely no use for those stereotypical rocking chairs from yesterday.
It might be my imagination but I also think that today’s over-50 crowd has a lot more fun that yesterday’s senior citizens.
Speaking only for myself, I would add that I am not nearly as much of a moron as I was in my 40s. And Lord knows, that certainly helps my situation.
I know more about who I am than ever before. I don’t lose sleep about who likes me or who disappointed me. Sometimes I go to the grocery store with a face naked of makeup, and I don’t care who likes that, either.
Bleh. I’m a retired Barbie doll. And I have the fat rolls to prove it.
I also know many women who feel exactly like me.
We don’t order salads. We go for anything with gravy.
Life is short.
I’m having double chocolate fudge cake if I want it. And that’s that.
I have also embraced something else about myself. … I don’t want to be in the company of negative, nit-picky narcissistic people anymore.
I wasted many years feeling like I had no choice but to remain in the company of jerks.
Well, be a brat around me and you will see my wide-load hind end sprint for the nearest exit.
The same goes for basic human behavior.