But having a good belly laugh while doing the boogie-woogie somewhere I’ve never been and rocking babies in a hospital nursery, something I did for years before starting my workday while in Texas, is definitely me. I can assure you I won’t take up skydiving. Rather than seeing them as negatives, they are the price I paid for what are by far my greatest accomplishments, my two daughters, and I wouldn’t think twice about making that payment again.īesides, I’ve never felt better, more at peace, or more sure of myself.Īnd I will in no way buy into that other long-held stereotype that once you grow old, your best days are behind you and that you can no longer fully realize your dreams. I’ve made my peace with those bodily changes that come with aging - weight gain, sagging boobs and a butt that has given way to gravity. Grieving for my younger self doesn’t describe me now and they never will. African-American like me? Drop that by about five years.īlack might not crack, but like everything else, it will most certainly die.įor the record, I will never be an old lady either. When I was born in 1957, the life expectancy for a woman was 72. You don’t make it into the elderly demographic without a few scrapes, scars and stretch marks. I can’t say the same for my hunk of a husband, but I’ve long embraced the E-word because, well, I’ve earned it. Heck, I might even put on a little Marvin Gaye and do my version of dancing. In just a few months, I will celebrate my 61st birthday, which by the way, is always reserved for a weekend with my three surviving sisters and lots of cake and icing. It’s no longer a curse, something to hide or be ashamed of it’s a blessing, something you look forward to. When you’re 15 and your mother suddenly dies at age 43, then your father at 51, aging looks different. I was never what you might call a wild child, smoking pot and burning my bra, but on my way to this decade, I’ve had a lotta fun and even taken a few risks here or there.Īnd I did it, always, looking my best. I don’t want to be 20, but I’m really freaking cool.”ĭoesn’t that just make your heart smile? Does mine ’cause, really, most days I feel the same way.Īnd at 60, I’d like to think I’m in that chorus of like-minded women in their 70s and 80s, who, the writer says, are eschewing long-held notions of how “old” looks, feels, and in some instances, acts. In fact, Slater has amassed hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers who admire posts of her looking fabulous in frayed jeans and such on Accidental Icon. Not that she’s out and about in hot pants or Botoxing to fend against the natural process of aging, but as the writer put it, she and the others are by no means “feeling pressed to close up shop.” If you missed it, Slater, 64, was featured in a New York Times piece about a certain group of women - all on Instagram - who are determined not to age. Reading about Lyn Slater, the Fordham University professor and Instagram idol the other day, I couldn’t help thinking, “You go, girl.”
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