May 13, 2016 · 5:27 am
About 5 years ago, I wrote a tongue in cheek bit about what it really means to grow older in this bless-ed country!
When you are growing old in the land of nip & tuck, lose weight, dye hair, look young(er), it can be tough to see any humor in the fact that, like it or not, you just tipped over the waterfall of life and are heading towards the end with incredible speed and a few chin hairs.
But there is humor here and I just stumbled on another writer who started my morning with a laugh.
Michele Combs, a blogger (and software programmer tackled this topic about a year ago, on her blog, Rubber Shoes in Hell. She neatly sums up answers to the age-old question of, “..what not to wear when you are over 50.
The article is a rif on all the fashion tips readily available for we aging warriors. Combs does a bang up job of it. If you liked this article, try Part II of what not to wear if you over 50 because I loved it too.
This advice is solid, it makes me laugh and it reinforces my idea that there are some very important items that I really don’t want to wear anymore. I can listen to my own voice, now. I can wear, do, say whatever I want because I answer to no one now. No boss. No societal constraints. No voice in my ear telling me, “no, no, no!
And there never will be, again. Stand up tall, women of a certain age, and finally, finally, claim your independence. And Michele Combs? Bang on as the Brits would say, bang on!
July 5, 2012 · 6:54 am
I have a confession to make.
No, not the naughty kind. This confession has to do with getting old. I have written about growing old before but this is different. This is about expectations not met.
I thought growing old would be okay. Sure my body would be “lightly padded” and gently overworked. But people would call me “spry” and remark on how much energy I had.
Confession: I was wrong.
That’s big for me. “Wrong” is not a word I utter very often in the same sentence with “I”.
It seems that being the spry old lady who is a ball of energy is not in the cards for me. I have chronic pain.
Oh, I’m still active. I still ride my horse, do yoga and Qi Gong and garden but every activity comes with a price these days. Pain.
The real downside is I know that all of my aches and pains are the result of self-inflicted injuries I incurred in my youth and middle years:
- A knee that blew playing tennis just a bit too hard.
- The wrist I ripped the tendon off while lifting a very large piece of furniture (a granite-topped Hoosier cabinet) against my husband’s wishes.
- The foot I accidentally rolled over with a cabinet filled with dinner plates.
- The concussions (5 to date) I have had from everything from a roller skating accident to being thrown from my horse.
- The separated shoulder from hitting the racquet ball wall a bit too hard.
- The broken ribs (6) from riding, horse-play and just plain clumsiness.
- The sprained ankles (4 times) from tripping over a dog, running to tell a news crew to get going and cover the earthquake (a whole nother story) and falling down steps and up a hill.
Those are just a few of the ways I have insulted various body parts over my 60+ years. What’s funny is that I had my shoulder operated on in February and right now, it’s the best joint in my body.
Still, I will get up every morning – albeit a little slower – and put one step in front of the other all day long, despite the pain. Why?
Because I am still here, still able to get up, still able to gripe about pain while some of the people I love the best are not. And I am lucky enough to still be taking this ride we call life with the man I married 28 years ago…