What’s the Big Deal about Looking Our Age?

People used to be surprised when I told them my age. They would invariably say, “You don’t look that old.” Now that sixty-nine is just a few months away, I’ve suddenly realized I haven’t heard that comment as often as I used to. At some point I must’ve started looking my age. What’s the big deal about that?

Am I supposed to get a hair transplant or buy a toupee? I think not! I was bald long before I reached this age. It didn’t matter that much then, and it matters even less now.

Should I color my hair–or at least darken my beard and mustache? That gray doesn’t look nearly as nice in photos. Nope on that, too. How many people are apt to study pictures of me and criticize the way my hair looks? If anything, they should note how nicely styled it is. It looks much better now than it did when I was younger.

Wrinkles? If I have any, I haven’t even noticed them yet. I don’t expect to have anyone greet me sometime with a “Boy are you getting wrinkled!” How rude would that be. The problem would be theirs, not mine.

Oh, my! Are my teeth white enough? Doesn’t matter. At least I have all but one of the ones I’m supposed to have, and the missing one doesn’t show.  Although I wish my teeth were perfectly aligned–braces weren’t even discussed when I was growing up–I really wouldn’t want to put myself through that now, even if money weren’t an issue.

Hmm. My arms look a bit flabby. Should I take up weightlifting now to do something about that? As if I don’t stay busy enough doing things I consider important.

Okay, so I use a walking stick for my almost-daily walk. But it’s not because I need it to walk. It just helps me keep my rhythm better. When I need it to get around, I’ll already be almost used to the idea.

By the time I got hearing aids–probably ten or eleven years ago–I was too concerned about wanting to hear better to worry about whether other people noticed them. Now that they’re starting to fail me, my concern still isn’t how they look, but how many important things am I failing to hear properly.

As I look back at what I’ve written, I can only conclude that I might not win any prizes for my looks, but who cares? Not I. I’ve done a pretty good job of accepting myself as I am. And that includes looking my age.

What about you? Do you look your age? Would you do–or DO you do–anything to make yourself look more youthful? How about sharing a comment?


I’ll be back again on Sunday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

“On Aging Gracelessly” is only one of my two blogs. I post lyrics of the Christian songs I’ve written over the last fifty years on  “As I Come Singing.” Check it out HERE if you’re interested.  Free lead sheets (tune, words, and chords) are available for many of them. View the list HERE.

If you enjoy my writing, you’ll find a number of things to read on my website.  Also music to listen to and music-related videos to watch.

My newest novel, The Devil and Pastor Gus, is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Go HERE for links to those places.
Best regards,

2 thoughts on “What’s the Big Deal about Looking Our Age?

  1. I routinely tell people who ask me my age that I’m 72 or 68…ha! What surprises me is that some of these people consider it for a while before asking me if I’m not pulling their leg.

    My hair started turning grey in my early 20’s. The Italian side of the family was made up of people almost completely white-headed by the time they were 35. Ask me if it makes me shy. GO ahead. You’ll see that there is so little about my appearance that worries me.

    I pat my paunch and tell people in the restaurant that they should never trust a skinny chef. i play to the crowd.

    Maybe if there was anything I could change about my appearance it would be my shoe size. A size 16 is just impossible. It’s worse here in Colombia because the biggest shoe size they make is a 12. Not even close. At 56 years and counting I am stuck in this situation so I make the best of it. If I can survive to 69 I will consider myself priveleged. My hat goes off to you for having the genetic fortitude to make it this far and still have your wits as well as wit.


  2. I’ve actually known a guy whose hair started turning gray in high school, although I didn’t know him till a few years after that. Sounds like you’re handling your age with good humor.

    Wow! That is a HUGE foot. We have a Brazilian friend who has a size 15.

    Thanks, Tom. Wit and wits go a long way in this life. 🙂


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