Trying Not to Think About Turning 60

It’s three years off, but turning 60 is gonna happen. 

Some birthdays just hit differently. I remember turning 26 and feeling like it was a big jump, one step closer to 30 maybe. Funny how certain ages feel heavier than others. 

Ask me how old I am and I’ll happily tell you. My age, although something I think about quite often, is not something I worry about. My friend and I were chatting about it yesterday for “research.” She’s about three months older than me, and we both said the same thing: “I feel like I’m 40.” Growing up, 65 was old. Our grandparents seemed ancient, but looking back, they were probably only in their fifties when I thought that. 

I’ve written before about how I couldn’t wait to be 50 and have gray hair. Here we are, and it’s been a grand time. As most people age, they become more comfortable with who they are. Some start speaking their mind about everything because they feel they’ve earned the right. I’m at a point where I try to use fewer words and give less advice, even though, yes, I’ve been there and done that. 

Yesterday, I suggested that my friend and I plan a little joint celebration when we both turn 60, maybe a dinner with our husbands or even a party. Her response was, “We should choose which fall festival we want to go to.” Completely unrelated, she was obviously changing the topic. She’s just not the type to scream her birthday from the rooftops like I do. 

As a Thanksgiving baby, my birthday lands on Thanksgiving every seven years, and this year (2025) is one of them! I’ll tell everyone I meet that my birthday is coming, and that it’s on Thanksgiving this year. Don’t give people the opportunity to forget your birthday and then feel disappointed. Remind them! 

They talk about older people becoming invisible. I think that happens when people stop trying, when they give in, or maybe they were never that shiny to begin with. Not that I’m trying to stand out, but I do style my hair, put on makeup, and choose my clothes and jewelry carefully. As we age, our skin loses some sparkle and we move a little slower. If we don’t want to fade away, we have to keep working at it. 

When I was growing up, “old” looked different. Our grandparents retired at 65, stayed home, and dressed the part. Age and aging have evolved over the years. Commercials used to show older people in retirement homes doing “old people things.” Now they show them traveling, dating, hiking, and starting businesses. The baby boomers refused to give up, and they changed how we view aging. And the Generation X’ers, we’re not going out quietly! 

I probably worry most about walking like I’m old. Older people often have bad backs, hips, knees, and feet, so they move differently. I want to keep standing tall and doing the things I love. Even with hormone replacement therapy helping me stay balanced, I’ve lost a couple of hours of the full-on weekend energy I used to have. But that’s okay. I still get up and move. 

The second thing I worry about is looking old — everything from wrinkles and less sparkly eyes to that annoying crepey skin. I can accept it, but I don’t have to like it. There are lots of cosmetic options and I get Botox in my forehead. I could get it around my eyes, fillers in my lips, etc. etc. but the cost and one day you stop all of it and what do you look like then!!  

Writing this has helped me see why turning 60 feels a little icky. It’s not about the number itself, it’s about what it represents. It’s one of those milestone ages that makes you stop and notice time passing in a new way. Not because I feel old, but because sixty sounds like it should mean something. It’s a marker. And as they say “age is just a number.” 

So, I’ll keep working out. I’ll keep listening to podcasts and learning new things. This week, I’m revisiting my love of masonry, watching YouTube videos and heading to Menards this morning. Because I want to stay interesting, sparkly, and relevant, not just for others, but for myself. 

Growing older gracefully doesn’t mean fading away. For me, it means showing up — curious, capable, and still a little shiny.