Okay, let’s not sugar coat this – getting old is a bitch! There’s no instruction manual to read or special training we can take along the way. The scary world of aging is filled with shocks and surprises around every wrinkled corner.
And you know what shock does to aging boomers? It makes our hair whiter, our poop tighter and our pacemakers pound out the beat to Jerry Lee Lewis’s Great Balls of Fire.
Personally, I thought I would always be 32 because that’s how I feel on the inside, and in my dreams I’m always 32o. Then one day… WHAM!
Mother time kicked me in my assets and announced my coming of age into the crusty rusty years. I looked into the mirror and found a 70-year-old grandmother with a double mastectomy under her belt, a few corporate battle scars in her wake and a closet full of comfortable shoes.
I once read that certain species of sharks have to keep swimming forward to keep oxygen-rich water flowing through their gills.
This seems like a good rule to follow as a metaphor in human life as well. Standing still or hanging on to what we once had can be suffocating. When I stagnate and marinate in my own juices for too long I feel sad, lonely and old; very, very old.
So I make like a shark and keep moving, regardless of my growing list of limitations.
Now here I am, in the dawn of my twilight years, surrounded by a gaggle of gently used human beings. I live in a condo full of seniors, I sit next to the senior-set at the doctor’s office, my friends are getting more wrinkled every day and my dentist is as old as I am.
Even my two younger sisters are fast approaching in my rearview mirror. We used to giggle and talk about young boys, designer shoes, stressful careers, bringing up kids and vacations. And while we still giggle over a glass or two of chardonnay, now we talk about old men, sciatica problems, knee replacements, grandkids and constipation.
It’s way too easy to become marginalized as we age and have our voices drowned out by the ubiquitous chatter in the world around us. It’s important for my happiness and wellbeing to stay relevant and be heard.
So a big part of each life-breath I take is the ranting and raving I do about how I see the world around me in all its glory and carbuncles.
I write my Boomerrantz blog, I pen letters to local council about the Canada Geese problem in the parks and I publish magazine and newspaper articles about topical events that matter to me. And I don’t hesitate to challenge those in charge, by asking questions and advocating for myself at every opportunity.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not the kind of cranky old senior who always feels perpetually aggrieved. On the contrary, I’m actually an unusually happy septuagenarian and my half of the glass is always the top half.
But the act of ranting about things I find unjust or unfair is like a good liver cleanse; it helps to flush out the clogged arteries of my cranky zones and restore a sense of balance to my life. Sometimes the rants in my pants simply need a good airing out, and blogging about my aging boomer opinions seems to do the trick.
But it’s not all about the dark side of 60 that has me blogging my boney fingers to the nub. I love to do my share of raving as well. There are still many joys in this world, and I’m at the front of the line to appreciate the good things in life; as simple as a morning smile, or a tip of the brim from a stranger.
But here’s something about many older women. We love to worry about wrinkles and waistlines, instead of celebrating our cellulite and the wisdom of our years.
We worry about that dreadful whisker that popped out on our chin overnight, instead of taking comfort in the freedom that comes with getting older.
We worry about our white hair and thinning locks, instead of enjoying that second cup of coffee in the morning, happy that we no longer have to strap ourselves into a pair of pantyhose to go to work. And we wear far too much beige and black and never enough electric blue, fire-engine red and emerald green.
For those of you who love to write and have never tried it, blogging is a wonderful way to stay connected with a talented online community and get our voices heard. It’s a way to organize our thoughts and tap into the things that really matter to us. It’s a way to simply have fun and entertain our friends and family with our stories.
The way I see it – blogging is like opening a steam vent on a pressure cooker of unspoken words. Thanks for reading and I’ll see you between the lines.
What do you like to rant about? Do you do any blogging? Why or why not? Please join the conversation.
Tags Hobbies for Women