Shopping in your late 30s – at Forever 21

Yesterday, I met a friend for lunch at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. After a well-balanced meal of salad and diet coke, I decided to walk down Market Street to the Union Square area to do some window shopping, maybe try on a few of the latest fashions for fall. You know, browse. I was in the mood for love – love of knee-high boots and a possible fun new dress, that is.

I went into the Gap, which of course had nothing new. It seems to always just be a rehashing of what they had last year, and the year before that. Everything seems so late 90s in the Gap, even though I know they have a hot new designer running the show now.

Now, I don’t know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was the sunny day, maybe it was the crisp edge of fall in the air, maybe it was my upbeat mood. I decided to cross the line waiting for the cable cars and go into the flagship of Forever 21. I know, the name is ironic and I’m surprised that there are not age-detectors at the entrance. If there were, I would have set them off.

Everyone in the store was wearing skinny jeans (so last year) and some type of plaid shirt (so college-in-1992). Also, there were only about three other women in the store over the age of 21, and I think they were chaperoning their daughters. One of the women working there – probably the manager, since she was about 40 – smiled at me and said: “Can I help you find something, Miss?” I could have kissed her for adding in the ‘Miss.’ As we exchanged a knowing glance, sympathetic in nature on her part, I could tell we both knew that the ‘Miss’ should have been “Ma’am”.

As I trolled around, looking at this shirt and pulling that pants suit off the rack, I wondered about what kind of fashion choices I should be making as I get older. We’ve all seen that women of a “certain age” that is wearing what looks to be an outfit stolen directly out of her teenage daughter’s closet and groaned inwardly to ourselves. We’ve all said to ourselves: “That will not be me.” So, as I padded around Forever 21, I kept thinking to myself: “Is that going to be me? Today?”

To tell you the truth, most of the clothes were objectively WAY too young for me to pull off. A black and red plaid mini-skirt? No. A black lace, ruffled, Madonna-in-Holiday-esque mini-skirt? Probably not. A shiny, spaghetti-strap, black unitard straight out of the “Let’s Get Physical” video or from Studio54? Definitely not.

But there were some things I tried on and liked. A black, purple-polka-dotted, slightly ruffle-edge trench coat with hot pink lining and just a touch of taffeta inside to poof it out? Stylish and cute. A hot-pink feather flower for my hair, circa 1920s? I actually bought that, and will need to muster up the courage to wear it outside. A strapless black jersey pants suit? I looked like Bianca Jagger in the dressing room and decided that even if I never had anywhere to wear it, I was absolutely willing to pay $27.80 to own it.

As I was trying these things on, I heard two of the teenagers who were working the dressing room talk about things they thought were “hot”. Standing inside in my pants suit, I half thought about asking them what they thought. But what do they know about being 37 and looking too old to wear something? They were eighteen if they were a day. Then I remembered all the insecurities that went along with that age. At eighteen, I wouldn’t have the balls to wear this. Now, I think I do.

I might shop at Forever 21, but that doesn’t mean I’m dying to be 21 again.

On Cougar Town – ABC’s new show

OK. I watched the debut of this show the other night, and I have to say that I, like Judith Warner at the NYTimes, disliked it. I thought the show itself was trying too hard and I found myself wondering if anyone who still looked as great as Courtney Cox over the age of 40 would really have as many insecurities and anxieties. I doubt it, but maybe I’m wrong.

Something the show did get right, I think, was the sense of loneliness that Cox’s character feels after she gets a divorce. That is all-too real for most women. There’s the sense of relief that you’re out of that dull or horrible marriage, to be sure, but then follows the crushing realization that you are no longer young and you are spending your nights alone with your book or the latest reality television show. Even a bad marriage insulates a woman from having to feel old and alone. So that hit the right note for me.

But, then, I just don’t believe that someone like Courtney would be alone for that long. Her odds are upped, aren’t they? What about the rest of us? With our sagging boobs and dimpled butts? If we have a scintillating personality or a fascinating life, then maybe we will do well on Match.com. But, if not? Ouch.

Perhaps one of the most disturbing things about the show was Christa Miller’s face. Is she in the running to become the new Joan Rivers? She used to be so cute on the Drew Carey show, back before all that face-saving surgery. Yikes.

This is the photoshopped version.

Her smile here reminds me of the Joker.

If you watch the show, you’ll see what I mean. Her face barely moves and her lips are ridiculous.

This is exactly what I hope NOT to be like when I’m over 40. To my friends out there, if I go overboard someday on the silicone and botox, please set up an intervention and show me a tape of Christa Miller on Cougar Town. I’ll understand.

A new look and outlook

OK. I’m back.

And this time, I’m going to use this blog as an open journal to talk about the process and experience of aging.

Before you think it, I’m not “old” yet. But, I’m also not young.

The other day I was looking at grant applications for the arts and one of them was for “young adults” only. The age cut-off was 35. I am 37 and ticking upwards. Looking at the requirements, I suddenly realized that I’m no longer considered a “young” adult. I guess that means I’m just an “adult”.

At any rate, I don’t know many people around my age who are entirely comfortable with the fact that we are all getting older. Nostalgic is starting to creep into all of our conversations and I’m afraid that we’re only a few years away from entering into our anecdotage. To stave off my general anxiety about turning the big four-oh, I decided that I would focus my attention on exploring my feelings and thoughts, instead of running away from them and trying to pretend I’m still 29. (I know people who really do hold onto the number 29 or 30, long past the point where it isn’t ridiculous.)

We cannot avoid getting older, after all. We can learn to accept it, though, and maybe even begin to appreciate it. Though I have to admit I am a long, long way off from being able to say that I am looking forward to my forties and fifties.

So, in other words, this is my electronic record of my journey into my 40s. Along the way, I want to talk about cosmetics, fashion, marriage, divorce, sex, kids, creaking body parts and any other miscellaneous signs that middle age is fast approaching. My aging reports should – fingers crossed – be sometimes poignant, but mostly funny examinations at our American culture. A place where, the last time I checked, getting older was definitely not cool or acceptable. Especially in the youth-meccas of the cities.

40 is definitely NOT the new 30.

And I should know, since I’m turning 37 in two weeks.

I’m not being ‘age-ist’ exactly, but I do think that people should stop deluding themselves that 4o is no longer middle age. (That is, unless you plan on living to be 100, but even then you cannot stretch the definition further than 50.) Or that 40 is “young”.

If you are 40, you are not “young”. You may be “young at heart”, “young-thinking”, or “youthful” for your age, but “young” you are not. Why keep kidding yourself?

Here’s the latest news, hot off the presses:

Mental powers start to dwindle at 27 after peaking at 22, marking the start of old age, US research suggests.

Professor Timothy Salthouse of Virginia University found reasoning, speed of thought and spatial visualisation all decline in our late 20s.

Therapies designed to stall or reverse the ageing process may need to start much earlier, he said.

His seven-year study of 2,000 healthy people aged 18-60 is published in the journal Neurobiology of Aging.

Now, before you freak out, there is ancillary evidence that not ALL mental powers fade after their peak at age 22. (Yes, your old eyes read that last sentence correctly. Fading begins at the ripe old age of 22.) But, have no fear. The old adage “with age comes experience” is still very much supported by the evidence. 

Things like memory stayed intact until the age of 37, on average, while abilities based on accumulated knowledge, such as performance on tests of vocabulary or general information, increased until the age of 60.

So, as someone about to turn 37, I guess I’m going to have to accept that my memory is going to start fading, too. I should have known that my new fetish for brightly colored PostIt notes did not appear out of nowhere, people. Lately, I’ve been forgetting to do at least 10% of the things I said I would do. For me, that’s a marked increase. (Note: I don’t have kids, so I think that you can give yourself a break here if you have them and have already been forgetting things for several years.)

I am just not the same chick I was at 17 or 27. Hell, I’m not even the same hot mama I was a mere five years ago.

At 37, my ankles crack, my shoulder sometimes aches for no knowable reason, and I often find myself wondering what it is that I am doing after I have stopped one task to do something else (especially if I have to change rooms). My hair is graying at the temples and I have begun to question my own personal ban on Botox or other facial injections. My thighs and my butt – which were never robust – have begun to sag so low that I now completely understand the term “saddlebags”. (Side note: Again, no kids. I can’t imagine what I would look like naked if I had ever given birth. But, then again, at least there would be a valid excuse for the devastation.) 

So, I’m here to attest to the fact that 40 is not the new 30. That’s bullshit.

That being said, at 37 I feel more like myself than I ever did at 27. 

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go back sometimes, to 27.

I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes relish the fact that I’m long past all the nonsense that so often comes along with “youth”. 

Bette Davis once said that there are some days that the only thing that makes a woman feel better is a glass of champagne. I think we all know what I’ll be doing on my birthday this year. If I can still remember what day of the week that is. . . .

Finally, some sanity about eggs, drinking 8 glasses of water per day, and other health fears that our grandparents never thought twice about . . .

One of the things that boggles my mind is the fact that some people will do anything to be “healthier”, where “healthier” is a stand-in for one or all of the following:

1. Look younger.

2. Stave off aging in all forms. Haven’t you heard that 50 is the new 30? (Or so people who are 50 hope.)

3. Stay attractive to the opposite sex.

4. Remain fit enough and attractive enough to get laid, either before or after your divorce.

5. Never get cancer. Or anything else scary.

6. Live forever. No, seriously. Forever.

Obviously, these are impossible dreams.

One of my friends argued with me the other day about his parents, who are nearing 60, still being middle-age and “active”. Not unless they plan on living until 120 and hiking part of the Appalachian Trail. Which, as far as I know, is neigh-on impossible*. (*Note: not the hiking part, the living to 120 part.)

In New York, when I worked in fashion, I used to see skinny women dragging liter bottles of water around with them. Because it was healthy, and good for their skin and kidneys. Apparently, both myths.

So, it is with some sort of pride in my “common sense” attitude about things I eat, drink, and do to keep myself reasonably fit for my age, that I share with you the following myth-busting story. Enjoy. And enjoy the coffee and eggs for breakfast for once, why don’t you?

By Dorothy Foltz-Gray, Health

Myth #1: Drink eight glasses of water a day
In 1945, the U.S. Food and Nutrition Board told people to consume eight glasses of fluid daily. Before long, most of us believed we needed eight glasses of water, in addition to what we eat and drink, every day.

The truth: Water’s great, but you also whet your whistle with juice, tea, milk, fruits and vegetables — quite enough to keep you hydrated. Even coffee quenches thirst, despite its reputation as a diuretic; the caffeine makes you lose some liquid, but you’re still getting plenty.

Contrary to common belief, urine color is not a great sign of dehydration, says Rachel Vreeman, MD, a fellow in Children’s Health Services Research at the Indiana University School of Medicine in Indianapolis: “If you’re thirsty, you should drink.” But don’t overdo it. Drinking too much can lead to hyponatremia, in which sodium levels fall, causing an electrolyte imbalance that can make you very sick.

Myth #2: Stress will turn your hair gray
The carpool, the spilled milk, the deadlines. Who doesn’t believe that stress can shock her locks?

The truth: “Too much stress does age us inside and out,” says Nancy L. Snyderman, MD, chief medical editor for NBC News and author of “Medical Myths that Can Kill You.” It ups the number of free radicals, scavenger molecules that attack healthy cells, and increases the spill of stress hormones in your body. So far, though, no scientific evidence proves a bad day turns your locks silver. “We gray according to genetics,” she says. And, let’s face it, when you do get those gray strands, hair products make covering them a cinch.

Myth #3: Reading in poor light ruins your eyes
It’s the common-sense refrain of mothers everywhere — reading under the covers or by moonlight will ruin your eyesight.

The truth: “Reading in dim light can strain your eyes,” Snyderman explains. “You tend to squint, and that can give you a headache. But you won’t do any permanent damage, except maybe cause crow’s-feet.”

Your overtired eyes can get dry and achy, and may even make your vision seem less clear, but a good night’s rest will help your peepers recover just fine.

Myth #4: Coffee’s really bad for you
Surely something 108 million Americans crave so much each morning couldn’t possibly be good for you? Wrong.

The truth: Too much may give you the jitters, but your daily habit has a lot of positives. “Coffee comes from plants, which have helpful phytochemicals that act as antioxidants,” says Stacy Beeson, RD, a wellness dietitian at St. Luke’s Boise Medical Center in Boise, Idaho. One set of antioxidants appears to increase insulin sensitivity, which might explain a lowered risk of type 2 diabetes in people who sip java. A Harvard study of more than 125,000 coffee drinkers found that women cut their risk of type 2 diabetes by 30 percent. Other studies suggest that coffee cuts the risks of Parkinson’s disease, colon cancer, cirrhosis and gallstones. Drinking joe gives your brain a boost, too. And, despite the jolt of energy it provides, coffee has no effect on heart disease.

Two to three cups a day is fine for most people, Beeson says. But if you take your coffee with a racing heart, anxiety, or wide-eyed nights, cut back or switch to decaf. If you’re pregnant or low on calcium, talk to your doc about the best brew for you.

Myth #5: Feed a cold, starve a fever
The old wives’ tale has been a staple since the 1500s when a dictionary master wrote, “Fasting is a great remedie of feuer.”

The truth: “Colds and fevers are generally caused by viruses that tend to last 7 to 10 days, no matter what you do,” Vreeman says. “And there is no good evidence that diet has any effect on a cold or fever. Even if you don’t feel like eating, you still need fluids, so put a priority on those.” If you’re congested, the fluids will keep mucus thinner and help loosen chest and nasal congestion. A little chicken soup spoons in some nutrients, as well.

Myth #6: Fresh is always better than frozen
Ever since scientists honed in on the benefits of antioxidants, the mantra has been “eat more fresh fruits and veggies” — implying that frozen is second-rate.

The truth: “Frozen can be just as good as fresh because the fruits and vegetables are harvested at the peak of their nutritional content, taken to a plant, and frozen on the spot, locking in nutrients,” Beeson says. “They aren’t trucked far distances to sit on grocery shelves.” And, unless it’s picked and sold the same day, produce at farmers’ markets — though still nutritious — may lose nutrients because of heat, air, and water.

Myth #7: Eggs raise your cholesterol
In the 1960s and 1970s, scientists linked blood cholesterol with heart disease — and eggs (high in cholesterol) were banished to the chicken house.

The truth: Newer studies have found that saturated and trans fats in a person’s diet, not dietary cholesterol, are more likely to raise heart disease risk. (An egg has only 1.6 grams of saturated fat, compared with about 3 grams in a cup of 2 percent milk.) And, at 213 milligrams of cholesterol, one egg slips under the American Heart Association’s recommendation of no more than 300 milligrams a day. “Eggs offer lean protein and vitamins A and D, and they’re inexpensive and convenient,” Beeson says. “If you do have an egg for breakfast, just keep an eye out for the amount of cholesterol in the other foods you eat that day.”

Myth #8: Get cold, and you’ll catch a cold
It must be true because your mother always said so. Right?

The truth: Mom was wrong. “Chilling doesn’t hurt your immunity, unless you’re so cold that your body defenses are destroyed — and that only occurs during hypothermia,” Vreeman says. “And you can’t get a cold unless you’re exposed to a virus that causes a cold.” The reason people get more colds in the winter isn’t because of the temperature, but it may be a result of being cooped up in closed spaces and exposed to the spray of cold viruses. Staying warm may not prevent a cold, but staying cheerful might. A study at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh says positive people exposed to cold viruses have a 13 percent lower risk of getting a cold than gloomier souls.

Myth #9: Your lipstick could make you sick
In 2007, an environmentalist group, the Campaign for Safe Cosmetics, had 33 lipsticks tested for lead. Although there’s no lead limit for lipstick, one third of the tubes had more than the limit allowed for candy. That started a scare that spread like wildfire.

The truth: “The reality is that lead is in almost everything,” says Michael Thun, MD, head of epidemiological research for the American Cancer Society. “It’s all around us. But the risk from lead in lipstick is extremely small.” In fact, lead poisoning is most commonly caused by other environmental factors — pipes and paint in older homes, for instance. The bottom line, Thun says: The risk from lipstick is nothing to worry about.

4 big health whoppers
Most of us want to believe in “miracle” cures. But if it sounds too good to be true, it is.

Weight-loss formulas
The National Institutes of Health warns against taking any drug combos sold without U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approval, including herbal mixes that promise big results. “The problem is that many contain stimulants and may be dangerous for people with underlying heart disease, high blood pressure, and other chronic illnesses they may not be aware of,” says Marc Siegel, MD, a New York City physician and author of “False Alarm: The Truth About the Epidemic of Fear.” “And you may not know how much stimulant you’re getting.” It’s far better to ask your doctor about FDA-approved appetite suppressants or, best of all, exercise and watch what you eat.

Arthritis fixes
Copper bracelets, shark cartilage, honey-and-vinegar mixtures, magnets. If only they would cure arthritis. But it just isn’t so, Siegel says. In fact, copper can cause an allergic reaction. Although there’s no cure for arthritis, rest, exercise, heat and drugs recommended by your doctor can help.

Colon cleansers
Colonics have been hawked as everything from a toxin remover to a cancer cure. But they only do what your intestinal system does already. Enemas, laxatives, or passing a rubber tube through your rectum and pumping water in and out can be expensive and dangerous. “There’s no evidence that colon cleansing is necessary,” Siegel says. And experts say long-term cleansing can cause anemia, malnutrition, infection, intestinal damage and even heart failure.

Alzheimer’s cures
Removing silver fillings, zapping your brain with electricity, or taking smart pills won’t keep your memory intact, says Stephen Barrett, MD, a retired psychiatrist who operates www.quackwatch.org. “Reputable drugs for slowing memory loss are only in their infancy. If brain tissue is dead, you can’t revive it with something in a bottle.”

Grown-ups don’t necessarily know what they’re doing.

It’s my birthday tomorrow, and that always makes me think more than usual about things. Like life, the meaning of it, the purpose of my own, how much time has gone by in a flash, how much time I might have left. You know, the small stuff.

When I was younger, I used to think that people over 30 really had it figured out. I also thought they were close to death, being so old and all, so I respected them. They had things like houses, and small children, and jobs. Plus, they actually got to do what they wanted, they didn’t have to be in by 10pm, and they didn’t have parents. Or, at least it seemed to me like they didn’t, because I almost never saw anyone over 30 with their parents. My dad avoided his mother like a hiker avoids poison oak. You might have to see it on a trail now and then, but overall you keep your distance and a watchful eye.

Now that I am turning 3-oh-plus-6 (god, it makes me gag to think of it), I realize that grown-ups don’t necessarily know what the hell they’re doing. In fact, the older that I get, the more older friends that I have, the more I can tell you younger people out there that NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THEY ARE DOING. Not really, anyway. We “wing it”. We “do our best”. We “get insomnia”. We “have drinking problems”. We “take Xanax”. We learn to “deal” with the panic that comes from the realization that we just don’t always know what the best choices are, what to do, or where we are going.

That’s the cold, hard truth of it. It’s just that some people are better fakers. They learned a long time ago that false confidence still looks like confidence to the rest of the world, so that’s their gig. Think of all those people who ran Enron into the ground, or Bear Stearns. They seemed like they knew what they were doing, right? Nope. Not really.

In that vein, I’d like to post a letter to my teenage self. Say, oh, at sixteen. To tell myself some stuff that I should have known 20 years ago. It would have saved me some time, I think. But, then again, I always did have to learn my lessons the “hard” way.

Dear Pretty, Young Thing, [it was the 80s after all]

I’m you. Just older. And for your sweet sixteen, before you go off to your birthday party, I’d like you to know some things about life.

First off, boys. You will be kissed. Guys will like you. You will date. A lot. You don’t have to worry about things like this. You’ll have sex before you are old and gray, you don’t need to use 2 condoms “just in case” [this is actually a bad idea and more unsafe], and you won’t know what you’re doing until you’re at least 24, so until then, just learn to “wing it”.

Don’t have sex with just anyone. Or with football players, or hockey players, or “players” period. They suck and they are immature. Be more choosy. You have oodles of time. See note one about not knowing what you’re doing anyway until 24.

Take a year off during college. Seriously. Go abroad. Work. Go to China. Volunteer. Go to France. See something. Honestly, you’ll thank me. The world doesn’t care if you graduate at 22. They care they you know something about anything other than yourself, dating, beer kegs, and navel-gazing.

Learn another language well. No, seriously. Not just for tests. See note above. And for god’s sake, don’t choose French again. You’ll never use it.

Stop reading fashion magazines. You don’t have to look like that to get a boyfriend or to be happy. Plus, you can’t look like that anyway. You are NOT FAT. Stop dieting.

Don’t listen to gossip about you. Ever. People suck, they get insecure and jealous, and they say nasty things in order to feel good about themselves. If you must, listen to harmless gossip, but be smart about it. Never repeat anything.

Study, but don’t obsess about your grades. They’ll get you into a good school, but getting into a good school is just the first step. Creativity is more valued than knowing what year the Magna Carta was signed. Trust me.

Relax. Life is hard, but you make it harder by being hard on yourself. There are things you can’t control, like the economy or how much tax you have to pay. There are things you can, like how much you freak out about losing your job or how much tax you have to pay. [Can you tell I just filled out my taxes?]

Figure out what you like. Not what other people tell you that you SHOULD like. If you like pink, wear it. Even if red is “in”. If you like science, become a scientist. Even if someone thinks you are good at “art”. If you like collecting Barbies, then do it. Keep it a secret, but do it. [After all, I'm not telling you to commit social suicide, here.]

Everyone is scared.

No one knows what they are doing.

People over 30 are just like the people they were at 16, with more responsibilities. [Watch High School Reunion on the Hallmark Channel for proof when you're older.]

Most importantly, avoid dating Brook. He’s a dick.

Love,

Your 36-year-old self

Women and Age Appropriateness

The other day, I put on a top that I’ve had in my dresser drawer for ages. Literally, ages. I think that I got it around age 27, while I was still living in New York City, and had some sense of fashion from working in the industry.

A friend of mine, who is probably the most stylish of all my friends, worked for awhile at JCrew, and they had an entire room of prototypes that they had considered turning into JCrew products, but then passed on. This shirt that I threw out was one of them – a one of a kind, velour, half-shoulder number that showed just an inch of my tummy.

Now, thankfully, I still have a toned tummy, so when I put on that shirt a couple of nights ago to go out to dinner with my fiance, that wasn’t the trouble. The trouble was more one of age appropriateness. Did I look good, or stupid? Hot or old? Ridiculous, or not? I feel like it’s getting harder for me to see myself as I really am. I have reverse aging anorexia. The more I age, the fewer years I see in the mirror. Should a woman who is 35, barreling down on 36, still wear a shoulderless top?

There is no end to the fashion advice craze, and every bitch in stilettos has her own opinion on the matter.

Some say that a woman over 30 shouldn’t wear any pastels – too girly. Fuck that, I say. I like pink. So sue me.

Some people advise that women cut their hair to look younger. But, then, studies show that men don’t actually like women with shorter hair, so if you’re still single, you’re screwed. And if you have short hair and get a divorce? I guess you grow it out.

Some fashionistas claim that over 30 women probably shouldn’t be wearing short-shorts, or short skirts, or anything too revealing in the leg department – even if they still have great gams. By this standard, Tina Turner would have nothing in her wardrobe and women over 30 wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the beaches.

I stick to this latter rule out of deference to my dimply thighs, but if I had great legs, I think that at times I might show them off. Although, there is something perverse about women in too short skirts walking with their 15-year-old daughters. It looks – I don’t know – strange.

Like they are attention mongers. Or just refuse to age at all. Or something.

It’s this ’something’ that I struggle with myself. I’m finding it hard to age ‘well’, whatever that adjective is supposed to mean before such an insulting effect to the body. Aging is never, ever pretty. It pretty much sucks. But we have to do it – all of us, including Madonna – so the questions I’ve been asking myself of late are these:

How can we all age ‘well’ without losing ourselves somewhere in the mix?

Is it possible to age naturally and accept it – to truly be happy letting one stage of our lives go while embracing the next phase?

Can we, especially as women, bow gracefully out of the competition that is female-dom in our early 20s and 30s?

When I lived in New York, I lived on the Upper East Side. The rich side. In my elevator one day, this ancient lady and a younger man got on at a high floor and we rode down together. She had on furs, her blonded hair done, and a thin, shaky strip of hot red lipstick on her lips. Her face was pulled back so tight that it looked shiny. Like Joan Rivers, only at 90. I kept wondering if the man were her son? husband? lover? caretaker? grandson? They were clearly going out to a fancy dinner, and as we left the elevator, she looked in the mirrored paneling and said:

“I’m worried that my hair doesn’t look right.”

I thought to myself, You should really be worried that your face doesn’t look right.

And then I promised myself that I would never, ever end up like that old granny in my elevator, no matter how tough it got to resist the lure of taking 10 years off, of an easy fix, of a more youthful existence.

I’ve been thinking recently about dusting off my journalism skills and going out into the streets to ask people – young and old, men and women, rich and poor – about aging. Their thoughts, their fears, about how they cope, when they first knew that they weren’t, ahem, youngish anymore. (For me, it was when my knee started to ache inexplicably going up the stairs.)

I want some advice. I want some guidance from real people who seem content with their lot at age 50, 60, 70, and beyond. Maybe I just want some perspective to counter all the youth-obsessed media we’re accustomed to here in the States.

Anyway, I threw out that velour top and changed into a sleeveless, black turtleneck. The next day, I went to get blond highlights in my hair to cover up the gray streaks forming at the temples.

You win some aging battles, you lose others.

I’m still trying to figure out what ‘age appropriate’ means, so if you have any thoughts on whether or not 50-year-olds should wear velour tracksuits with ‘Juicy’ on their asses, and why or why not, please feel free to weigh in on this issue in the comments section.

Top 5 Leading Causes of Death

Today, a headline on the BBC website made me giggle to myself and I knew it was the right time to introduce this topic. Here is the headline:

Elderly’s Health at Risk

Say it ain’t so. Now, is it just me or is this shocking to anyone else? Old people’s health might be at risk of what? Not being as good as it was when they were younger? Are they serious?

Yes, my friends, I am afraid they are. All too serious. Which brings me to my discussion of why I find the Leading Causes of Death lists so hilarious:

There will never be a time when there is nothing on the top five list of leading causes of death. Never. Ever. In a million years.

So each time the media or statisticians or the medical community or whoever else bemoans the leading causes of death, I must say that I find it incredible ironic that they don’t see the funny side of this. Death is, I am told, inevitable. And when I look around, I don’t see anyone still alive from – oh, say, 1850. Except for Darwin’s tortoise. She’s still going strong 175 years later, again as reported on the BBC.

Now I’m not advocating that no one take notice if everyone is dying of a strange Ebola-like disease in the prime of their lives. Nope. That would be serious business indeed. And I am also not saying that we should ignore the fact that in LA county far more Hispanic and Black community members suffer from heart disease than in the more affluent white districts. That is also very important to know and do something about. But what I am saying is that – and this might be a newsflash for all of those geriatric people spending thousands of dollars to cling on to the last 3 years of life – people do have to die of something.

Cancer, if we all live long enough, will visit all of us at some point. I’m fairly certain that even a good heart won’t make it much farther than 95 (and that’s pushing it for most of us – sorry, guys). Add to list of organs/body parts that would just break down like an old carburetor in a used Ford Escort and you have the kidneys, lungs, liver, spleen, colon, bladder, uterus, prostate, and joints in nearly every possible location in the body.

This doesn’t sound pretty, does it?

Then why, oh why, does everyone want to live to 125? I, personally, do not. And let this be proof that I did indeed tell my friends and family that I was firmly a DNR. If I am dead, so be it. Thanks, folks, it’s been fun. I never, ever, ever want to sit in a nursing home where no one visits me sipping my nutrition shake as I pee my pants for the fourth time that week. And if I get cancer at 72 – guess what? I’m going down with it – just give me plenty of heroin. Oops, I guess that’s technically called morphine in medical language. I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to get high, though the repercussions were always too big for me to ever consider it. But if I could go out like that at 72? Bring it on.

It beats another 15 years of “I used to be able to do so much more” existence.