60 is the New 60

As I get to each decade milestone, I keep hearing a tired refrain: Oh, 50 is the new 30, 60 is the new 35, etc, plug in whatever decade you want. I call bullshit.

I get the reason for this on some level. I’m as surprised as you are at becoming a senior citizen. If you’re not there yet, you will be surprised sooner than you think, mark my words.

First of all, I never pictured myself being this old until I was. Second, I remember how ancient I thought people my current age were, when I wasn’t yet. Third, when we go to rock concerts and festivals of our favorite bands from high school, we look around and remark to each other how much older than us everyone at the concert is, not realizing they are saying the same about us. Hubby and I think we look and act and feel so much younger than the number our birthdates proclaim, so you’d think we’d embrace this saying.

But I still call bullshit, and here’s why.

At over sixty, Hubby and I are in great physical and fairly great mental shape. We’re very active, travel a lot, often attend music events, and we also are, according to our own measure, very cool people. At least, our grandkids think so.

But things still hurt for random reasons. And I don’t have patience with a lot of the stuff that goes on in the world. And I don’t ski like the hot dog I once was, either. In other words, I’ve become a crotchety old lady in many ways. Senior discount? Hell yes, I will take that, I earned it, thank you very much. It takes a couple of deep breaths when a younger person insists I shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy or climbing on a kitchen counter top to reach a high shelf, but I do remember to thank them and bitch about it to my friends later.

So why does that saying irk me?

Maybe, I’m big enough to admit, because I’m just crankier than I used to be. But I think it’s more because I find it insulting to both the sixty-year-old and the thirty-five-year-old. Our generation has always danced to its own drumbeat so why the hell would we want to pretend we’re something we’re not at this late stage?

Besides, the thirty-somethings are having their own little personal crises and I don’t want to pile on by saying, “Ha, move over, we’re glomming onto your number.” I mean, if sixty is the new thirty-five, what is thirty-five? The new twenty? They might wish, but sorry, kids.

The other day, I remarked to my lovely son-in-law who was turning thirty-five that he was now officially middle-aged. He was absolutely horrified and not a little upset at me. He blamed me the next morning when he woke up and realized suddenly that everything hurt. As if calling him that dreaded word aged him overnight and it’s my fault for pointing out truth. I love you to the moon, SiL, but a fact is a fact. Go get some Ben-Gay and ask my daughter to give you a back rub. Embrace that middle-age shit.

So, can we agree to change that saying ?

How about 60 is the new 60? We’re inventing our own version of old age. I can only speak for my little circle, but our parents were not as active, healthy, vibrant, and cool as we are now. Let’s continue to rock whatever decade we’re in and show the actual 35-year-olds how it’s done. Dress the way you want, do whatever the hell you want and can handle; and if someone says you should act your age, go ahead and tell them you’re doing exactly that. Your way.

Because if nothing else, our generation has learned that someone else’s rules about the way things should be are just that: their ideas, not ours. If you need more proof, look at all the over-50’s now starring in blockbuster movies, participating in sports, and innovating the heck out of everything.

In some ways, we may be past our prime. That’s what the numbers would indicate. But I’m not going quietly into the night. I’m committed to making a splash and having fun as long as I can.

I want people to say, “You sure don’t act your age,” so I can say, “Yes, I do, this is what it looks like now!”