Musings by Joan #1

REFLECTIONS ON BEING 79 1/2 YEARS OLD. . . .by Joan Spector

50 was a piece of cake. 65. . .no problem. Even 75, I like to feel, was handled with a certain sophisticated aplomb. Mostly because I was still actively involved in business, felt great, looked pretty good and was convinced that 75 was the new 60. I’m sure I read that somewhere and I always believe what I read.

With the arrival of 79, a slight warning bell went off deep in my subconscious. My God,
next up is the Big 80. Impossible. Unthinkable. Down right depressing.

The first piece of evidence came at my most recent bone density test. I have been
exactly 5 feet tall since my sixteenth birthday. (In my head I have always been on the statuesque side, but that’s just in my head.) When the technician began to intone my height for the records, I could swear I heard the words “4 feet., 11 and. . . .”

“Stop, I yelled. I wasn’t standing up straight. I demand a recount!” Patiently, she waited as I sucked in my gut, fluffed up my hair, and finally said, “OK, now I’m ready. Measure away.” 4 foot 11 and ¼” came the response. My mouth opened in protest. .”Don’t push it,,” said the tech, with a warning look.

That evening at dinner with my significant other, I moaned about my terrible height loss. “What’s ¾ of an inch, for heaven’s sake?” he protested, looking down at me from his 6’2” Olympian height. “The difference between cute and gnomelike,” I snarled back. Only someone who used to be 5 feet could understand.

The real hell of this insulting height loss is the fact that I’ve also lost the ability to wear those sexy 3 1/2” heels that line my closet shelves and always made me feel tall and graceful. Nowadays, they hurt like a sonofagun after 15 minutes standing, much less dancing, at some friend’s grandson’s bar mitzvah or wedding. According to what I read, the fat that used to be in the ball of my feet and made walking in stilettos a piece of cake, has immigrated to other places in my body. So much for tall and graceful. Where did I put my Nikes? I think I’ll go out for a walk.

The other day I was musing about the state of my arms. This was caused by the frightening thought that I might have to put on a bathing suit due to the fact that we were taking a Caribbean cruise with three other couples. Worse still, it meant the necessity to buy a new bathing suit since the last one obviously had shrunk, caused I am sure, by chlorine in some long ago pool. Here’s the good news. The ship ran into a stretch of bad weather. All the women in our group agreed it was too cold to lie out at the pool. Phew! That was close.

Back to my musing. . .I was thinking. . . if the good Lord said I could have one body part restored to the way it looked when I was 21, what would I choose? Arms? Legs? Waist? Breasts? We’re not talking plastic surgery here. This would be instant gratification, the kind that only the Deity could provide. Oh, the possibilities. I still haven’t decided, but I’m working on it.

Speaking of plastic surgery. . . .I’m a believer. Been there, done that, and ever grateful to Dr. Larry Robbins for his artistry. My chin line still looks pretty darned good, if I say so myself. Thanks also to Bobbie Brown, Estee Lauder, and all the others who have kept me moisturized, buffed and bronzed throughout the years. And let’s not forget that genius of hair coloring, my hairdresser, Louis. What would I do without you? .

Two marriages and two divorces later. One wonderful daughter and one incredible grandson. Two rescue cats who run my household with iron paws. A thirteen year relationship with a great guy. Still, I have to admit that for the last fifty-plus years my identity has been strongly tied to my business life and the success of my public relations agency. My mother’s “writing gene”, as it is known in our family, has been an enduring gift that has stood me well, both financially and emotionally..

80 years old? I can handle it. I think I read somewhere it’s the new 70.

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Joan Spector lives in Miami, Florida and is president of Joan Spector Public Relations, Inc. She has recently discovered Facebook and is now “friends” with a whole new world of interesting people. She can be e-mailed at jspec0963@aol.com.
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