This Is What Sixty Looks Like

Renee Fisher

This is a delicate subject.

When people say I look good for my age I feel like I’ve been given an illicit prize. It’s a race I’m not running. I don’t deserve acclaim. Besides, don’t they see my turkey neck? How low are their standards?

But I digress. What I meant to say is, why do we care?

It’s not a competition, or it shouldn’t be.

I feel awkward when age comes up. If a person says I don’t look fifty-seven, I don’t want to say “thanks!” because that reinforces the premium we put on youth. And if a person proudly announces to me, “I’m seventy-five!” I don’t know what to say. “Congratulations”? I admit I have sometimes coughed up what was expected: “You look great!” or “You look so much younger!” But I always feel stupid, because the comment feels wrong.

Ditto if someone says, “You’re my daughter’s age,” or “I could be your mother.” I say nothing. It’s so fraught. What would you recommend? “I’d love to have you as a mother?” If a person says, “I’m so old and tired today, I feel plum worn out,” you would say, “I’m sorry.” But if a person says, “I’m old enough to be your mother,” I just clam up.

Yes, I know this won’t be a problem much longer. Anybody old enough to be my mother will be dead. But still, I swear I am not going to make comments like this to any younger women, ever. Age is going to have to become irrelevant unless I’m going to the doctor.

I saw the same sentiment in a book I mentioned recently, Saving the Best for Last. The authors apparently felt it was important enough to put it in chapter one. When her friend died, Renee Fisher decided that she would view every year as a gift, and she would own her age, whatever it was. If anyone tells her now that she doesn’t look her age, she looks them in the eye like, what did you expect? and says, “This is what sixty looks like.”

Her co-author, Joyce Kramer says,

“As I turned fifty, I experienced myself as the most beautiful woman I had ever been in my life because at fifty I liked myself.”

Isn’t that something to aspire to? At our age, we’re tough enough to achieve that kind of equanimity. If enough of us do it, it could become the cultural norm. Wouldn’t that be a great gift to leave our kids?

Merry Christmas to all my readers. I wish you long life and happiness, and I love you all for sharing this little space in, well, space. Best wishes for a beautiful 2012. I’ll see you in two weeks.

The Bad Old Good Old Days

What if you had to use the bathroom in a hurry?

Every now and then I get an email from a Boomer waxing rhapsodic about the good old days and lamenting the disappearance of nickel candy and the ability of kids to play outside without being kidnapped.

These emails can only have been composed by men, because here’s what I remember:

*Sanitary belts that slipped around and chaffed your behind (because they hadn’t invented that post-it note adhesive yet)

*Garter belts, because pantyhose hadn’t been invented yet

*Girdles were required, because a decent woman didn’t jiggle unless she was in a Dean Martin movie.

*White-out and carbon paper  

*Men were bosses and women were grateful (the series Mad Men is not exaggerated)

*Women weren’t welcome as police or firefighters, astronauts, or commercial pilots (but we were welcome to work as a “stewardess” if we were pretty, single, and didn’t go over a maximum age or weight limit, in which case we were fired.)

*Using the designation “Ms.” often earned you a sneer, because it was clear evidence you were one a them bra-burners.

*Sports were for guys, cheerleading was for girls

I'm so happy to be doing all these dishes by hand while wearing high heels!

*We didn’t go to the gym. We watched Jack LaLanne on TV, except for a privileged few women who could afford to go to Venus deMilo women’s exercise salons.

And my personal favorite: at my job in a public school district, the union contract permitted new fathers to take three days’ paid Paternity Leave but new mothers received no equivalent (when I pointed out the unfairness of this, my fellow administrators teased me. Then they got annoyed.)

Next time I get one of those geezer emails I think I’m going to send them my list. You can add to it. What do you remember about the Bad Old Good Old Days?

Four Great Survival Skills

One of the cool things about getting older is you recognize wisdom. You learn to separate the faddish bloviators from the truly wise people.

Tim Ferris strikes me as wise. He wrote a smart book about focusing on the right things and not wasting time as you pursue your dreams.

Malcolm Gladwell is wise. He’s the guy who wrote in his book Outliers that success is a matter of practicing for ten thousand hours. And how that fact relates to our country’s idiotic approach to “educating” our students.

Sheryl Sandberg is wise when she says our little girls are not going to grow up to assume the reins of power unless we change our thinking, and fast. You can watch her TED speech here.

I recently discovered a couple of wise brothers, Dan and Chip Heath. They give speeches and write books about making smart decisions. In a recent column in Slate.com, they identify four key areas for ensuring you survive during this economic downturn. They mean it career-wise but I think it’s 100% applicable to life in general.

Principle 1: Look for bright spots

We tend to focus on the negative. It’s a biological, genetic imperative that I wrote about previously.  Per the Heaths, “this bias will tempt you to focus on the negative when it comes to your work: What are the problems I’m facing and how do I fix them? And, in doing that, you’ll neglect an equally important question: What’s working now, despite the obstacles, and how can I do more of it?”

How this relates to us:

Isn’t this a promising line of questions for our interpersonal relationships? You could apply it to your marriage, your kids, your friends, and your professional endeavors.

The problems tend to get most of our attention (see: Pareto Principal). If we know that, maybe we can enhance our quality of life by shoving the negatives back in the box and playing more with the positives. Fun thought, eh?

Principle 2: Find the right gravity

According to the Heaths, who got the idea from motivational speaker Jim Rohn, “You’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

The Heaths relate it to a work environment, which “exerts a gravitational pull on us; the longer we stay, the more we’ll come to resemble the people we surround ourselves with.”

How this relates to us:

I’m such a fan of Stockholm Syndrome, don’t get me started. I mean this in the sense of women who lose themselves in their significant others. After a while you don’t even notice you’re adopting group-think. So watch out. Flypaper is everywhere. Don’t apologize, just notice. And then flee.

Principle 3: Maintain your bridges

Per the Heaths, we get more benefit from acquaintances than friends:

A landmark 1973 sociology paper by Mark Granovetter described the surprising amount of benefit we receive from our acquaintances, whom he called “weak ties” (as distinct from our “strong ties,” who are our closest friends and family). For example, in one study, Granovetter interviewed people who’d found a job through their contacts. In about 83 percent of the cases, the critical job lead came from a weak tie—a person seen occasionally or rarely.

How this relates to us:

According to Granovetter, opportunities are more likely to come from the least likely place, but as older peeps we tend to think we’ve seen it all. This attitude could wall you off from the magic! So don’t lose your sense of childlike wonder; don’t stop believing. Be open.

Principle 4: Avoid following the herd

Per the Heaths, “In pre-crash Iceland, lifetime fishermen laid down their rods to become investment bankers. We all know how that ended. It’s hard to resist following the herd, but traveling with the herd makes it harder to distinguish yourself. Differentiating yourself requires you to do something different. Think of it this way:

On Krypton, Superman was just an average Joe.
But on Earth, he was Superman.”

How this relates to us:

Older peeps are independent thinkers. At least, that’s what we like to tell ourselves, but in truth, we huddle and bitch just like any other age group.

It’s lonely if you’re out standing in a field. 

In 2011, many of our myths are falling away. Here’s what I’ve come to understand: Some of today’s music is wonderful. Lots of young people work harder than I ever did. And Twitter is about more than a ham sandwich.

Think for yourself, even if it hurts.

Housekeeping note: I am fake-humbled but mostly totally thrilled to tell you that this blog just received its one-hundredth subscriber! So when you leave a comment, you will be speaking to a whole bunch of friends. Your voice is amplified! Have fun with it. Leave a comment – share your voice. And thank you. 

What Social Media Do You Use?

I listened to a podcast today about social media as a marketing tool for small business. The two young guys explained it all very well, but they kept snickering about how “even grandmas are using it now.” It being Facebook, or Twitter, or LinkedIn, or Skype, or YouTube, or Google+.

And it kind of pissed me off.

Because I’m a grandmother. Beyond that, I’m a former webmaster, I have two blogs, I’m active on eight social networking sites, I get my morning news online and I know my way around a Kindle. I teach a class for new bloggers and I was just asked by a national women’s organization to develop a webinar on social networking. Seems the membership wants to learn how to promote their artistic and literary works online. I’m pretty sure they’re all grandmas too.

Ah, well. I’m not going to fret over the young guys. I have a more important mission, and I’m hoping you can help me. If you’re reading this blog, you’re probably from the middle-aged-and-older demographic I so cherish. Would you do me a favor and tell me what social media do you use? I would appreciate it, and it will help me develop my class for that same demographic.

Thanks so very much.

My mom on the computer with Bill.

What If We Didn’t Consider Aging a Problem?

Rossellini younger

The world is a magical place limited to some extent by our low expectations.   Today while I was meditating these ideas bubbled up:

  • If it’s true that forming a new habit takes 21 days of repetition, shouldn’t we be able to form a new habit every 21 days? So if you picked three new things you want to groove into your brain (say, meditation, Kegels and exercise), and did them for a month, wouldn’t you have three new habits? Over a year you could develop 36 new habits/behaviors. Is that really possible? What a better person I could be in a year if that were true.
  • What if you looked in the mirror on a regular basis and thought, “You’re smart! You’re pretty! Dang, you’re awesome.” Oh, put away the modesty. You love yourself, right? Why not unabashedly tell yourself that? Oprah does, or at least I assume she does. I wrote about it here. I think it would feel wonderful if we could stop with the negativity and start celebrating ourselves. My shrink used to say, “change the behavior and the feelings will follow.” Isn’t that a lovely thought? What if we could change our feelings simply by acting like we believe it?

Rossellini older

Okay, now that I’ve laid the groundwork, now that you are floating on a bubble of what might be, I would like to share with you a fabulous anecdote. A reporter asked Isabella Rossellini what she does to try to look younger. She fixed him with that half-mocking, studious look of hers and said, “I do nothing. I don’t think aging is a problem.”

Can you imagine feeling this way? Let me create a mental image for you: we look in the mirror and see that our necks are veiny, our eyes are surrounded by a starburst of lines and our hair is thinning. We shrug, because we know that looks go away.

We accept with a peaceful heart and good humor that older women look different from younger women. We marvel at their strength and ability to bend down and reach into the lower shelves, and we hand them things to carry and put away because they can. We laugh, knowing we’re taking advantage. They laugh, knowing it’ll be their turn one day. It’s all good. It’s just the way of the planet.

What would that feel like? What if we acted as if we believed it for twenty one days? Change the behavior and the feelings will follow.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my AST friends. I am grateful for the companionship we share.

The Opposite of a Bucket List

You know what a Bucket List is: that list of the things you feel you absolutely must do before you die.

By definition, that would have to be one heavy list. First of all, it ends with your death, and second, there’s probably stuff on it like sky diving (Nanci can cross that off hers) and start a literacy program and reconcile with that icky family member you’ve been avoiding for the past fifty years.

Well, I’m tired of the pressure. Life is hard enough without having a giant existential To Do list, so I’ve decided to rebel.

I’ve decided to start a “F*** It” List.

On this list, I will itemize all the things I’m going to not do, ever. So far this is what is on it:

  • play piano
  • speak Spanish
  • look young
  • read the classics
  • have beautiful nails
  • care about how I look naked from the back

I’m having so much fun with this list. Every time I add something, my shoulders relax, like I just had a good massage, or therapy.

This list is becoming increasingly useful for another reason. I was cleaning out my inbox the other day, and there was a stack of recipes I’m planning to try. Except I found myself thinking F*** It. And I threw them in the trash.

It felt so good that I figured I’m on to something.

Here are two things people (starting with my Mom) have always said about me:

You work too hard.

You worry too much.

Not anymore, girlfriends! Because I have discovered the F*** It List.

Ahhhhhh.

Go ahead, try it. But first, tell us, what would you put on your very own F*** It List?

Kindle readers can contact me at Lmspreen@gmail.com.

The Courage to Be Average

Not me.

I used to be a hero. That sounds conceited, but I mean it in the sense that I put everybody before myself. I sacrificed for the good of others, and refused to accept help. Many women are brought up this way.

In my mid-forties, I began to treat myself as well as I had
everybody else.

But I still I worry about certain people whom I love, and usually I discuss my concerns with my husband, who has been a good mentor to me. (Vice versa, he says. Nice.)

Recently I was venting my pain and confusion about a troubled friend of mine, and Bill said something so smart that I had to write it down. And then I decided to share it with my friends at Any Shiny Thing. Bill said of my friend, ”She has a strange life but it’s not your responsibility.”

How liberating to hear it put that way. I’m not responsible for saving her, fixing her, or changing her. (She is not in any mental or physical danger, and has not asked for my opinion or my help.) How she lives her life is not only not my responsibility, it’s none of my business.

It’s her life. Hers to choose, hers to decide. Who am I to “help” her?

I used to try to change people, but I’ve learned that my advice isn’t always useful or applicable. I also have come to understand that most people change when they’re good and ready, not when you want them to. Hell, that lesson was the whole purpose for meeting my last ex-husband. So I have to let things go.

This is a humbling thing to accept, because it means I’m no longer the hero.

It’s hard to sit back and let people live their own lives. You want to help. You want them to like you or think well of you. You want to think well of yourself. Leaving them alone means you have nothing to feed off of, and it takes a pretty strong ego to let it go. But my message is, it’s freeing.

So what if nobody thinks you’re awesome?

Years ago, I told my boss I was a perfectionist. Like many people who say this, I said it with a bit of pride. He smiled at me and said, “Perfectionists fear criticism.”

Crushed! I was humiliated, but he was right, of course. It takes more guts to be imperfect than perfect, and it takes more guts to be average than non-heroic. Now that I realize this, I’m trying to hang up my cape.

What a relief to let it go.

Kindle readers can contact me at Lmspreen@gmail.com.

Do Appearances Matter?

In this article, Ellie Williams says New York police have started warning girls with too-short skirts that they could attract sexual predators. Williams is annoyed, because she feels the police are blaming the (potential) victims.

I agree with her that we shouldn’t assume sexual assault is the fault of the victim, but I do think people don’t always think about what their clothing says about them. Like the underwear models in the picture above. Maybe I’m old, but I don’t get what the girls in the thong panties are trying to say. Any ideas?

We love laughing at the “People of Walmart” pictures, and HR people always have a half-dozen funny stories about people who come to an interview in appalling outfits. Appearance matters.

This prom dress got a lot of attention a few years ago.

Believe me, I rebelled against this as a young woman in the 60s and 70s. I thought it was superficial to judge people based on appearances. I’d go into a nice clothing store in faded jeans and feel offended when the clerks treated me like an unserious customer, which I was, in view of the fact that I was poor, but I thought they were snotty and elitist.

In my thirties, I was waiting for a guy to come by the house and pick me up for our first date. I saw his car from the bathroom window. It was an old, faded, Fiat with torn upholstery and bald tires.

I should have stayed in the bathroom. Instead I ended up marrying and supporting that man. We divorced seven years later. The first impression I got from his car said everything, but I had been taught not to judge by appearances. Now that I’m older, I realize that humans really don’t have any other way to draw first impressions.

We respond to visual cues

We humans respond to visual cues. While dressing like a streetwalker – or going naked – doesn’t entitle a criminal to use your body, at the same time it’s wrong to say that people don’t look at what you’re wearing and draw conclusions. Those conclusions might turn out to be wrong, but the chance to demonstrate that fact may never come.

What do you think the young woman in the cowboy hat is saying with her choice of clothing? To me, it says I’m sexy and fun. Let’s play. That’s her decision – she’s a grown woman – but I’m hoping she’s also a martial arts expert.

Ah, well, she’ll probably change as she gets older. When I was a teenager, I applied for a job. The prospective employer called my current boss and asked for a reference. Vick praised me to the hilt. The prospect kept pushing. “Come on, she can’t be perfect. Tell me one single flaw.”

Finally Vic relented. “I had to be honest,” he said later. “I told him your skirts are too short.”

Kindle readers can contact me at Lmspreen@gmail.com.

Saving the Best for Last

If you’ve ever wondered how other women face the challenges and weirdness of aging, this book is for you. It’s a reassuring read.

Know that I am objective. I paid to hear Renee Fisher speak, and I also paid for my copy of the book.

It was only after I left the event and read the book that I realized what a gem I’d purchased.

I am a little obsessed by the process of aging, in case you hadn’t noticed, so a lot of books on the subject have crossed my desk. Many are very good. I referenced a few of those good books at the end of this post about how Jane Fonda is afraid of the aging process (but not afraid to sell us a book about how to be brave and authentic.)

In Saving, Renee, Jean and Joyce are not unafraid, but they are smart and tough enough to face it with their eyes open and then come back to tell us about it. They are thoughtful and introspective.

The book is structured in a very useful way. Each of the chapters begins with information about a particular topic and then all three of them write about their personal experiences with it. Examples of chapters are Rational Women Repeating Irrational Patterns, Our MothersDating and Mating, and Sexuality and the Big Five-Oh! At the end of each chapter are exercises you can do individually or with friends, maybe even a book club, to explore that issue and how it is affecting you. I gather from listening to Renee that this is a good way to find yourself, or the pieces of yourself that went missing in your early years. When you find those pieces, they aren’t always pretty or smooth, but they’re valuable for self-discovery.

Because of this book I was able to ask my mom some sensitive questions about body functions and how she has aged, and thus what I might expect. We also laughed when I read some bits out loud, like when a lover fondled Joyce’s mastectomy prosthesis. It didn’t do a thing for Joyce, but the lover got all excited. Luckily they laughed about it.

From that example you can tell that these authors pull no punches. Aging can be scary and isolating, but they lay out their experiences for you and invite you to join in. It’s entertaining and informative. I laughed and I cried, literally.

Joyce, Renee and Jean did us all a favor by writing this book. You might want to do yourself a favor and read it.

Kindle readers can email me at Lmspreen@gmail.com

No More User Name/Passwords

Almost every time I buy something online, or subscribe to a service, or reveal that I am an alive person, I am encouraged to create an online account.  I have accounts for my email and virus protection, utility companies and local library, credit cards, banks, blogs, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Norton, Kindle, Amazon, Office Depot and a whole bunch more.

This phenomenon is becoming unavoidable. When I tried to help Mom change her address with the DMV online, we had to create an account. Or when she tried to cancel the call waiting feature she didn’t ask for/doesn’t want? She had to create an account on TimeWarner.com. Either that or continue to jabber with ineffectual magpies at their 800 number, or go down to the local office and wait in line for forty-five minutes. Neither of which work. So you go online and create an account with a new username and password.

I have more than seventy user name/password combos.
I do not want any more.

Perhaps sensing you’re falling out of love with this process, some companies try to lure you back by letting you personalize a little sliver of their corporate website. They do this by tacking on the cutesy “my” to their web address (e.g. “myverizon” or “mytoyota” or “myfibroids.com.”) (Okay, I made that one up.) Some of them, like my local newspaper, even want you to create personal profiles. Pretty soon you won’t need Facebook. You’ll have “mypressenterprise.com/me”. Go ahead. Put that on your business card instead of a personal website. Wait, I think I’ll delete this blog. You can just go to my page at Frigidaire.

Many of them would like to make it even easier for you to log in by using your Facebook or Google UN/PW. Isn’t that nice of them? I’m sure it’s all on the up-and-up. Very secure.

I’m not a Luddite. I love new technology, but we might have achieved critical mass of ridiculousness, and now it’s time to stop and reassess. Does it make sense that corporations are firing all their humans and then programming software to act like employees? Who needs a bricks-and-mortar bank, store or library? You just go on the Internet and, with the help of a smug little voicebot, do it all yourself. Pretty soon we’ll be performing surgery on our own bodies. The only thing we’ll need is the proper user name and password.

Kindle readers can contact me at Lmspreen@gmail.com.