The Top Ten Things About Turning 60

Hello, 1964 babies.  We turn 60 this year. Sparkling Sixty?  Nope.  Sexy Sixty? Definitely not feeling that. Maybe Saggy Sixty?  Yes, sounds right. Suddenly my eyebrows are scooting down my face and will soon be sitting on my cheekbones.  And I never knew I could have wrinkly knees.  I could wallow in my self-pity, but I have decided to put on my big girl Spanx and see the good in turning 60.  Eyebrows aside, there is a lot of good.

Five years ago I wrote the Top Ten Things About Being Over 50. Those Ten Things are still true (especially the parts about bowel movements and comfortable shoes).  But as Father Time is dragging me kicking and screaming towards my 60th birthday, here are some of the silver linings (besides hair color) to the dark cloud of getting older.

10.  It is OK to eat.

I had a few years where I was thin.  I loved it and I felt great.  I also didn’t eat.  Really.  I remember a dinner party once where all I ate was a plate of watermelon because I was so obsessed with staying thin.

I’m not so thin now, and I don’t love that.  But you know what I do love?  Eating.  I love eating with my husband, eating with my kids.  Count me in for Mexican food, a drive-in burger, or a Michelin starred restaurant with perfectly paired wine.   I’m not going to pass on a steak on the grill or hot salty french friens.  Life is about community, and community often involves food.  I have sacrificed being really thin in order to share a great meal with people I love, and I’ll take that trade any time.

9.  I am getting used to my little Buddha belly, and even think of it as a friend.

True story:  As I sat with my laptop on my lap, thinking about what to write about, my eyes fell on my little Buddha belly, and a voice inside my head said, “Well, hello Friend.  You’re always here, aren’t you?”

My Buddha belly came to live with me about 2 years ago — about the same time I started eating again — and has been my constant companion.  It does not matter whether I diet (which I am not particularly interested in) or exercise (which I do, but only half-heartedly), Buddha belly does not abandon me.  I choose to see it is a great example of tenacity and stick-to-it-ness, qualities I have always admired.

8.  I have rediscovered my siblings, and I love them.

My siblings were my heroes when I was a little kid.  Here we are posing in front of my parents’ air conditioning unit.

We grew up and went our separate ways.  I left and hardly looked back, and was not good at maintaining those relationships.  Busy busy busy.  For many years I saw my siblings less than once a year.

Recent circumstances have mandated time spent together,  with constant communication and cooperation for some family issues.  I have gotten to know my brother and sister now as adults, and I realize how fortunate I am to have both of them.  I rely on them, enjoy them and love them, value each for the unique talents they bring to the table, and count them as friends.

7.  I’ve had the opportunity to help my parents in new phases.

My parents were active and spunky and independent.  Neither of them needed or wanted (or would even accept) help.  But as they both passed their 90th birthdays, those strong and forceful folks needed a little help.  Sometimes they needed a lot of help.

It was never my dream to be back in my home town, driving to doctor’s visits, cooking meals, guiding through banking and estate planning issues.  And  I absolutely did not see myself sitting with my dad at the veterans’ home as his body gave in to Alzheimer’s and his brain didn’t remember that he had a daughter named Laura.  Those were not fun times.

Someday I may write about the incredible blessing this phase has been for me, along with the challenges and annoyances.  Right now it is all too raw.

But it was the best thing that has ever happened to me.  So good.  And I feel like I finally grew up.

6.  The beauty industry is awfully concerned about my skin.

I know I am concerned about my skin.  What a relief that the beauty industry is also quite wound up about my skin.  Social media helpfully sends me endless messages about emergency measures that should be taken.  Thank goodness I’m not in this alone.

5.  I no longer color my hair.

I loved my colored blond hair.  I fully intended to color my hair for the rest of my life.  But Covid came, I couldn’t make it to the salon, and I saw my dad’s white hair underneath that color.  I gave up the fight, and let the silvers grow in.

I know my white hair makes me look older.  For example, there was that time a neighbor saw me with my friend Kalisa and asked if she was my lovely daughter.  (She’s 8 weeks younger than I am.).

But I also think it is (sometimes) elegant and striking.  My husband thinks it rocks (or else he is brilliant and a spectacular liar).  And oh boy is it easier and less expensive, and so freeing.  And now when I look in the mirror I see my sweet Daddy.  And that’s pretty good.

4.  My kids are adults.

OK, there are days that when I realize my kids are adults, I cry. Yes, a big pity party for Laura that her kids have grown up and moved out and are actually having fun without her.

But on the days that I’m not being a neurotic drama queen, I am grateful and proud that I’ve raised two independent humans.  Do they do everything the way I taught them?  No.  Do  I sometimes think “Who raised these people?” Perhaps.  Do I secretly still stalk them on Life 360?  I’ll take the 5th.

For the most part, these two lovely adults make my heart swell with love and pride.

They are smart and funny and they both work hard and treat people with kindness.   They make me laugh and come to visit often, and will even occasionally play cards or Trivial Pursuit with me.  They let me hug them, hard, and hug back just as hard.  And they look away when I am inappropriately emotional when they arrive and again when they depart.

3.  I’m slowing down.

My pace is purposefully slowing.  I’m not talking about literally walking slowly — it still drives me crazy when I am behind slow-walkers in an airport or a mall.  Nor am I talking about sitting around, doing nothing.  I’m talking about the proverbial roses and taking the time, you know, to smell them.  I’m taking a breath, enjoying the view.

As a young lawyer I moved quickly all the time.  It was a race to write the brief and get it filed, and run out for cocktails with friends.   As a young mom I multitasked, running through the grocery store, grabbing the carpool kids, throwing dinner on the table.  Rush rush rush.

I’m still busy, but it’s different now.   I’m intentionally taking a minute to look around.  Sunset?  Yes please.  Shoot the BS with the clerk at WalMart?  You bet.  A walk with a friend?  I’m in.  Listening — actually, really listening to my husband?  Pretty good stuff.

I have even discovered the joy of scenic turnouts.  Recently on a drive across country I stopped in Casey Illinois to see the World’s Largest Golf Tee, even though it added an hour to a 16-hour drive.

I’m nowhere near ready to stop having adventures.  They’re just a little less scheduled, a little less frantic.  I’m making time for sidewalk cafes, good wine, chit chat, and giant golf tees.  And that fits nicely with Number 2:

2.  I’d rather spend money on experiences than on THINGS.

This January my husband and I went to the college football national championship game.  It was ridiculously expensive and frivolous, and also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and a dream come true for my Michigan Wolverine husband.  It was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.

Entering the stadium, high-fiving strangers shouting “Go Blue!” and chanting “It’s great, to be, a Michigan Wolverine!” my husband looked at me and said “THIS is what we should spend our money on.  Experience.  Not things.”

I have a house full of stuff.  I don’t need any more stuff.  I need experiences.  Bring it on.

1.  A new and really fun round of weddings.

My friends’ kids are getting married and my kids’ friends are getting married.  This is fun in a whole new way.

I knew the bridal party when they were little people playing dress-up, building forts,  or crying over not making the team.  We parents spent hours laughing and worrying (and sometimes praying and sometimes drinking) together.  We get to celebrate these kids growing up and finding love, and we also get to celebrate our communal parenthood.  We were there together raising these kids and we’re sending them out in the world together.

Plus it’s a great party.  This picture is my church “small group” at the wedding of two of the couples’ kids.  (The two gorgeous women in the long blue dresses are the MOG and the MOB, respectively.)

As I’ve watched each of those friends above send a kid off to marriage, it seems it is now my time:

This is more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.

Yep, 60 might be pretty good after all.

Want more about the good things?

Top Ten Things About Being Over 50

Acts of Kindness when Friends or Family are Grieving the Loss of a Beloved Pet

The Measure of Friendship: Kalisa

The Measure of Friendship: Church Ladies (and they’re nothing like Dana Carvey)

The Measure of Friendship: the welcome desk lady at City Hall, and my dad

Love is a Diet Coke with a wedge of lemon