If 80 is the new 60, I just turned 60…again.
I have friends who are 60 as well. They say they don’t feel any different than they did at 50 except for a bit of wear and tear on the motor works, a few rush calls to the washroom and the fact that wallets contain cards with a body’s “final instructions”.
Why is 60 so nice? Because of the gratitude. We weren’t very grateful people at 20, but now we read the news and find reports of a few contemporaries we loved who have died. We are still here with a number of good friends so, we are grateful for every day.
At 60, we find compliments that are unexpected. Three different times when my gentleman friend and I came off the dance floor, observers said we were “cute”. I think that means we were seen as VERY mature but functioning and that translated to…cute.
The other day the gentleman and I were walking at Wetlands Park on the south loop when a 40ish gal was jogging toward us for the second time. This time the gal said loudly, “When I grow up, I want to be just like you two!” Yep…mature and functioning.
For my birthday, I’m proud to say I got laid, or did I misspell that? Oh yes, it was lei’d…with a plumeria lei. My gentleman friend’s daughter ordered and picked up (at the airport) a real Hawaiian lei…beautiful. The lei was also quite fragrant…so said party-going friends who could still smell such things.
One thing about 60, we have lots of years to put things in the freezer and forget they are there. I defrosted my freezer the day before my birthday. And by golly I found lots of containers of non-specific foods I didn’t remember I had. My whole history of the last few years was in those containers…but now Republic Services has the goods. I guess my job now is to fill a bunch of new containers and see if I can possibly remember I have them.
Another plus of 60. For me, it is that I am now on time. I wasn’t always on time. (Friends, do not make comments on this point.) But now, you see, I’m retired and I’m smart enough to know it takes time…to be on time. No more do I just grab a nearby blouse and head out the door at the last minute. Today, I have a routine to make sure my ravishing self LOOKS 60. First I blow my nose several times, then floss and brush my teeth, wait for the shower to heat up, shower and “cleanse” my face. I then dry off everything, moisturize the extremities and zip open the cosmetic case that keeps the mess off the makeup counter. I apply the Retinol stuff and then brush on the foundation. The cheek blush is next followed by lipstick. If I have heated up the curling iron, I finally curl and comb my few strands of hair.
Next I lean against something to steady myself when putting on short and long pants. The bra is snapped shut, then I reach down and lift you-know whats into the bra cups. Blouse is next; choose a flattering color. Find the earrings and necklace to match. Then retrieve the long shoehorn and the shoes. Make a last-minute bathroom stop. DONE!
At best it’s a half-hour routine and if I run into a problem, such as an empty Kleenex box or an unheated curling iron, we add 10 minutes. And if I want to get in a car without a heart beating rapidly, I add another 15 minutes just to relax. So I start early and am finally….on time, except for the occasions when I oversleep because of a morning nap, but that’s another story.
One funny thing about 60 and being with a gentleman who is also 60 is the use of a GPS (Global Positioning System). We’re beyond the “let’s just try and find it” age. We enroll the desired address in the GPS. So we are carrying on a great conversation and the car is rolling along and life is beautiful when the GPS gent says loudly, “In two miles, take exit 81 to Grove Avenue.” Oh. OK. And what were we talking about? Neither one of us can remember and it seems perfectly natural. New topic, please. Happens all the time.
Lots to love and laugh about at 60 or is that 80?