Aging Out Loud

At seventy, I’ve become a public service announcement for orthopedic shoes.

Apparently, I am supposed to be “slowing down.” That’s what people say in the same tone they use for microwaves with suspicious wiring. But here’s the thing. I’m not slowing down. I’m recalibrating. There’s a difference. I no longer run for buses—I evaluate whether the bus is worthy of me.

Then there’s the invisibility myth. Or is it a myth? Society assumes that after a certain age, women should fade into beige wallpaper. I tried that once. Wore taupe for a week. Nearly disappeared at the grocery store. Never again. I now favor bold colors, bright enough to guide ships to harbor. If I’m going to age, I’m going to age in Technicolor.

One of the great misconceptions of aging is that we become fragile, like antique teacups. Please. I survived the 70s on high heels and many bad decisions. My bones have stories. I’m half bionic now. Yes, the old bones creak. So does my 100-year-old house. We both still stand.

Yes, I do everything a bit slower these days. And, there’s the occasion grunt or groan as a stand up. But I’m still moving, still thinking, and still have opinions, as my kids will tell you.

People also love to apologize to me. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with that hip.” Don’t be. This hip has climbed thousands of stairs, danced at weddings, and once kicked a jukebox that refused to play the Rolling Stones. It’s earned its opinions.

And can we discuss the idea that we must be “graceful” about it all? I have no interest in aging gracefully. I intend to age honestly. Sometimes that looks like chair yoga at dawn. Sometimes it looks like cursing at a jar lid that won’t open. Both are noble pursuits.

The best part of being seventy is that I have run out of apologies. I will not apologize for my laugh lines—they are proof of joy and a long life. I will not apologize for my opinions—they were hard won. And I certainly won’t apologize for taking up space.

Aging out loud, you see, isn’t about pretending you’re thirty-five. It’s about being gloriously, unapologetically seventy—and turning the volume up.