Aging is About So Much More Than Looking Old
It’s about coming to grips with who I’ve become
A few years ago, for my first volume of memoirs, I wrote about my mother growing old. It was painful to watch such a vibrant, dynamic woman become slowly and then more rapidly, incapacitated from all of the maladies that eventually caught up with her.
Now it’s my turn to write about getting old myself.
When I look in the mirror, one of two people looks back at me — either a young version or a more realistic middle-aged (or older, depending on the day) version of my mother.
When I see me, I see a young, active, smooth-skinned woman, able to take on anything the world throws at her. When I see my mother, I see an aging, wrinkled, sad woman watching the years pass with no control over it.
Which is reality? If I take what others see as real, I must be old. After all, the baggers at Kroger all call me Ma’am!
I know I’m no spring chicken at 71, but on most days, I don’t believe I think like someone of that age. My closest friend is in her late 40’s, and she tells me that I’m younger than my years and that knowing who Kanye West is proof I’m young of mind. (Is she kidding)?
I remember looking at my mother’s skin as she got older and finding the tiny wrinkles on her arms very odd-looking. And yet, I have that same crepey skin now.
I lotion my face and body to keep them soft. Yet even with my Nivea In-Shower lotion and Oil of Olay night cream, I can’t seem to get rid of the outward signs of my age! And, on my fixed income, I’m not willing to spend a fortune on expensive “crepe reducing” lotions that probably don’t work any better. Or on even more expensive plastic surgery.
I don’t wear frumpy clothes, But I do make accommodations for my age and health. Now that I’m retired and don’t have to dress for a “big girl” job anymore, I wear casual clothes and Skechers almost daily. In fact, I have ten pairs of Skechers in various colors and styles, and I’m always on the lookout for more! They are far more comfortable (if less stylish) than heels or narrow-toed flats for someone who has had eight leg surgeries!
My mother hated not wearing stylish shoes because of her diabetic neuropathy and being forced to wear sneakers. I, on the other hand, look forward to slipping into my Skechers every day.
Age has brought health issues too. For example, from 2011 to 2013, I had six surgeries (hip replacement, two knee replacements, and various other surgeries) to solve the problems caused by the hip replacement).
I’m not particularly active, although to be honest, I never was. So I have “old people” muscles — soft and weak. I’ve had cataracts, an ulcer, hearing loss—old, old, and old. But I did lose 54 pounds several years ago, so unless you see me naked, you’d think my body looks pretty good!
All this, as my son would say, makes me sound like a half-glass-empty kind of person. And, I don’t mean it to be. These are just the realities of growing older that I have come to accept.
I’m never going to be as healthy as I was in my twenties, but I’m going to be smarter, happier, more accepting of the foibles of the people I love.
Getting older means accepting that I am closer to the end than the beginning of my life.
My husband and I have made our funeral plans, and we feel very comfortable that our kids won’t have to worry about these details when we die. Being prepared feels good.
I guess with age comes maturity.
