If 60's the new 40...

If 60’s the new 40, then I’m in trouble! I’m nowhere near 60 years old, but according to this new formula, I would be in my 20s again. You may wonder what would be so bad about that...and you may even think that I didn’t enjoy these years. On the contrary, I loved this period of my life. I just don’t want to repeat it. I like my age. I love looking back on my experiences and personal growth as a person and a woman. If I had to go back and live life like a 25-year-old, I don’t think I would enjoy the experience nearly as much as I did the first time around.

The world has changed considerably since I was in my 20s — some things for the better, and others not so much. When I was 25, I had hopes, dreams, and ideas of how my life would be when I was older. Now, it turns out that I’m not that much older. I’m still 25. What happened to the last 20 years?

I’ve always said that I wished to grow old gracefully. When I was 30, or 35, this had a different meaning than it does today. Now, aging gracefully involves pig botulism, pumping our lips full of collagen, and scraping our skin off once or twice a year. I haven’t prescribed to these treatments (yet), and I’m sure that it shows. It always shows on women first. We’ve all heard how men age gracefully and women just grow old. This may be true, but some women do grow older gracefully. I’d like to be one of these chicas.

As I see women, who have more than 10 years on me, hustling around to look younger than I do, the phrase “some should, and some shouldn’t” comes to mind. When I was in my 30s, I always said that I would know when it was time to lose the long hair and pack away the hiney-hugging designer jeans. I wonder now if I will know the appropriate time. Perhaps I’ve already exceeded the time limit. I admit that I'm bothered when I see women from the backside, who look like they’re a girl in their late 20s or early 30s, turn around only to find that they are in fact much older — in some cases decades older. I don’t judge them, as that’s not my style. I do cringe on the inside, and take a closer look at myself. Yes, I like to wear my Diesel jeans, I love my platform wedges...and I like my hair longer. This means that girls in their 20s or 30s might be cringing at me already — guys too.

I’ve always wanted to grow old in the Audrey Hepburn fashion. There’s only one problem — I’m not Audrey Hepburn. She had beautiful, classic features and a lithe little pixie figure that carried off young and youthful, or sophisticated and graceful. She also had a giving heart and contributed countless hours of her time and energy to many worthy causes. I think part of her aging gracefully came from within. She also had money and resources, but I believe she gave as much as she received.

There’s another problem with my Audrey Hepburn formula. Times have changed. In today's society, I fear that growing old gracefully just means growing old. When I was in Madrid a few years ago, I was hard-pressed to find any of the wonderful Senoras of my youth. Champagne and blonde were the hair colors of the day for any woman older than 60. I was bothered and I was sad by this highlighted sign of the times, but I don’t know why I expected anything different from the women of Madrid than I do from the women in my own backyard. There are no white-haired (or blue-haired) grandmas in my neighborhood. I’m not saying that this is my idea of aging gracefully, it's not. I’m just pointing out an observation. After all, I've been coloring my hair for years, long before it needed to be colored. It seems that 60 is the new 40 everywhere, and I started on this path in my early 30s.

During the past few weeks, while mulling this subject over, I realized something. When I was younger, I thought of aging gracefully only in cosmetic terms — from the outside in. Now, as I reach 25 once again, I see that growing old gracefully needs to come from the inside out. It’s a state of mind. This doesn’t mean one should pour her way too old, albeit trim and firm, little hiney into a pair of tight jeans in perpetuity. It means that if we are confident in ourselves, if we own our past, and keep a steady eye on our future, then we will know what is appropriate and what is not. If we try to compete with others, or our younger selves, we are not being true to our own mind, body and spirit. If we give of ourselves unselfishly then we will attain a glow that no esthetician can ever achieve.

I guess what I am saying is that we should march to the beat of our own drummer. We need to listen to our inner-voice, as it’s usually the most honest opinion we can seek. If we do, then we will know when to cut the hair, and when to put away the stilettos. We will know when to let our forehead muscles relax and show the expressions that we have earned; we will know when to let our hair down and when to put it up. The confidence of knowing these little things will melt the years from our face, as we pursue our futures with a ready and comfortable smile — a smile that says we know who we are, we know where we’ve been, and we’re excited about where we’re going.

Here’s to all the chicas of the world — may we all grow older gracefully. Here’s to the guys (and I know you’re out there) that know the value of a woman’s smile, that natural woman smile that says she knows who she is, where she’s been and she’s excited about where she’s going. That’s a stock smile I’m talking about, not one modified with the “latest new wrinkle erasing miracle to come along in years.”

Dedicated to all of my friends who partake...I miss your expressions, especially when I’m trying to make you laugh. But if any of you think I'm ready to give up my diesels, you're sorely mistaken! Yep...I know which ASS-et I value most. ;)

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta