Well Past 50: The Weblog of Boomerful.com

Care for Yourself First

We hear time and again how the obesity rate in America is going through the roof, how many millions of people die from cancer each year or talk about the syndrome of the day (chronic fatigue syndrome, restless legs syndrome). The list goes on and on.

Why all of these sicknesses? Are humans really riddled with disease and pestilence? I don’t think so. It comes down to our self, our own self, that is really in control of our health and well being.

Caring for yourself and your body, everyday, in simple ways, is the best preventative medicine on the planet. And you are in control. Caring for yourself isn’t self indulgent, selfish or vain. It requires a lot of perseverance in a society that believes in using medicine and health care as an after-thought is the true path to well being.

Yes, medical doctors are essential for treating serious illnesses, and I’m not saying you should all pitch your physician out the window, but there comes time when you have to be honest with yourself and look at your lifestyle and make healthy changes before it becomes too late.

The meditative approach to health and well being has done wonders for me, and if we all took a moment to connect to our own source of healing energy, think of how this nation's health care crisis could be solved. There would be no health care crisis. It has been been shown that when 1 in 100 people meditate, the incidence of terrorist attacks, accidents and murders decreases drastically.

Something as fundamental as taking moment to focus on yourself: heart, mind, body and soul, that can heal your body and bring peace into this world at the same time sounds like a win-win situation to me. I can't imaging anyone finding an argument against that. So no excuses! It's time to take care of yourself FIRST.

16 Tips for Avoiding Fashion Failure

Well Past 50 Board Member, Mary Kellenberger and I spent an afternoon with Image Consultant, Kristi Kelley at The Image Studios in Chicago, preparing for our shoot for a Well Past 50 TV segment. This slender, attractive and perfectly attired young woman (they all look 12 to me) really knows her stuff when it comes to putting together an outfit that is color coordinated, flatters your body and is comfortable.

There’s good news and bad news. The good news is we can learn so much from Kristi. Albeit we can’t use Lindsay Lohan as our fashion example anymore (not that I ever did), she showed us simple ways to make the most of our wardrobes that have us coming off polished, trendy and fresh. And at our age, there are things that we NEED to do to look our best. Because when we look our best, we feel our best!

The bad news is, Mary and I both left feeling that we are complete and total fashion, hair and makeup FAILURES!

You really have to go in for a personal consultation to find exactly what styles, lengths, colors, cuts and combinations are right for you, but I want to share some of Kristi’s absolute rules that we can all follow:

• To look professional, wear dark colors in solids, not prints.
• It’s slimming if you wear all one color top and bottom, then add color with a jacket, scarf or accessories.
• Get fitted for a bra every 6 months. Especially at our age…sizes are changing constantly.
• You want your breasts standing upright so choose a bra that keeps those “girls” up with a smooth molded cup in nude or black only – never white. It can show.
• Be careful of minimizers. They can flatten you out and make you look even more matronly.
• Under no circumstances should you wear an outfit that shows a bra strap – not even a hint of one! Even if it’s the fad-of-the-moment, an exposed bra strap makes you appear unkempt.
• Spend most of your wardrobe budget on jackets, pants and skirts; spend the least on tops and accessories.
• If you want to show skin, use sheer sleeves or necklines. At our age, sometimes it’s best to leave them guessing.
• Don’t wear long, dangly earrings. They will pull your face down.
• Sleek fabrics with vertical lines are best for visually slimming.
• Wear skirts to the knee – no shorter.
• Buy one new outfit every season for something trendy, but stick mostly to classics.
• If you have a large bust, an open neckline with a sweater or jackets buttoned below the bustline is flattering. A camisole under a jacket is good.
• Capri pants shorten and widen anyone who is petite.
• With accessories, think proportion to your overall size.  If accessories are too dainty you will look larger; vise versa for large, chunky pieces. It will weigh you down if you have a slender frame.
• Three-quarter length sleeves slim your hips, but not if they’re the same length as your jacket. Then they do the opposite.
• If you’re well endowed, avoid breast pockets, gathering or ruffles at the bust line.
• Wear mid-rise pants that come just under the belly button for a slimming effect.
• Keep shoes the same color as your pants to elongate the body.
• Never wear navy shoes with a black outfit.
• Never, (and I’ve told you this before) never, wear elastic waistbands! They enlarge the waistline. Besides, they give you the erroneous impression that you really couldn’t have gained five pounds over the holidays. It’s a poor illusion and face it, everyone knows the truth.

Anyone who can afford a consultation with an image consultant should definitely go for it. There are so many minuscule things we just don’t know, or just don’t think of as our bodies change and our color fades. It doesn’t happen overnight, and the changes are subtle, but before you know it, you look frumpy. The worst part is, no one tells you. You have to figure it out for yourself.

If you can’t afford an image consultant, watch for our video makeovers on WellPast50.com where Kristi will share lots of helpful hints for women of different sizes, shapes, ages and colors.

Benefits of Getting Old

I'm always running across other blogs that write about the benefits of getting old. Either this is a new religion, or it's just plain fact that WE ARE ALL GETTING OLDER.

Read the Dilbert blog >>

Age Old Antidote

My oldest son was born when I was 17 years old - not the ideal age to begin parenthood. I took a short break and jumped back into parenting at 37. My two younger children were adopted. If anyone tells you there’s a difference between how you feel about your birth children and your adopted children, they are wrong. There is just as much joy, just as much gratification, and certainly as much unbridled agony from endless worry and stress.

I realize that neither of my forays into parenting have been “normal."  I was completely outcast as I sat on the bleachers at 25, cheering my Little Leaguer to victory behind home plate; and was viewed with pity when I sat on the bleachers at 55 and cheered my high schooler to victory on the basketball court.

When I was 17, parenting my son brought me maturity. I grew up fast. I went from reveling in the freedom of eating the chocolate chips without making the cookies, to sitting up all night stressing over how I would pay for the hockey gear my son desperately wanted.

I wouldn’t change a moment of the years I spent raising my son alone. I adored him, and still do. I made horrible mistakes and have suffered guilt and shame to last a lifetime over those mistakes. I have never completely recovered from my feelings of failure, even though my son grew into a man I admire more than anyone I know. He doesn't show any signs of bad parenting. I just couldn’t forgive myself for not being better at mothering. And perhaps, my desire to get back into parenting was a result of my need for a re-do. 

Boy, did I do it differently the second and third time around. No more adopted raccoons living in the house with us. No more late nights partying, then sleeping until noon. And definitely no more instability from changing the men in my life as often as I changed Eastern religious beliefs. This time I did it right - a stable marriage, moderate behavior and the image of June Cleaver that I projected to my children, my husband and my neighbors. 

Only now that my kids are pretty much grown up can I see that I may have over-reacted. But then I’m not sure any of us ever really gets it just right. We try so hard, only to find out we’ve managed to screw them up in some way we never would have expected.

So why do we try so hard? These precious little bundles of potential offer us our greatest challenges and our greatest rewards in life. For the most part, they love us back, even as we are in the process of warping their innocent little psyches. They make us laugh and cry. They make us think harder than any college course or work project we’ve encountered. They give our lives purpose and meaning.

I was 42 when my daughter was born, and, yes, I’m getting a little tired after raising children non-stop for 39 years. But I have a feeling that when my daughter leaves for college there will be other children in my life, whether they are foster children or Big Sister kids or weekly volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club. There is one thing I know for sure about children – they keep us young as they make us old and crabby . I know all the lyrics to every song on Britney Spears first three albums, which unfortunately only brainwashing could make me forget. I know what a “cami” is and wear them under “shrugs” occasionally. I am aware that tucking my T-shirt into my jeans is totally un-cool, and I know better than to ask someone with a bowling bag where their bowling ball is.

I have also been inspired to re-read my favorite novels by Kurt Vonnegut and J.D. Salinger. I’ve learned more Spanish than I learned when I took the class in high school. It’s much easier to learn when you’re trying to drive information into your child’s head than when some well-meaning adult tried to drive it into yours.

Children are the antidote to old age, memory loss and crotchety-ness. And the good news is – there are plenty of them to go around. There are thousands of older children waiting to be adopted. There are foster children in need of loving homes. There are opportunities to act as a child advocate or volunteer as a mentor. There are kids in hospitals who need someone reading to them, and kids “at risk” who need to know someone cares enough to bring them a Christmas present. Whatever their situation, children are little love sponges who will squeeze all the love you give them back onto you. 

I’ve been a foster parent, a Boys and Girls Club volunteer, and a child advocate. And I can tell you for sure that what they gave me was far greater than anything I gave them.

Taking Candy From A Little Girl

At five years old every new person we meet offers an opportunity to learn a little bit about the world and a little more about ourselves; and we embrace each lesson with the awe and enthusiasm our innocence allows.   

Unfortunately, most of those lessons burrow deeply away in our psyches leaving little effect.  But now and then a memory hangs on to our hearts so resolutely, it demands to have its lesson acknowledged, if not completely understood.  I wouldn’t have guessed that a casual acquaintance with a kindly old man who liked giving candy to a little girl would prove to be an encounter I would remember so well 45 years later. I remember even the lines on his face, the stooped and labored way he walked, and the tilt of his body as he leaned down to speak to me. 

The first time he approached he caught me by surprise. I was riding my tricycle up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. I loved the feel of forcing the wheels along the cement at lightening speed with just the strength of my legs. I sang loudly as I rode my tricycle, oblivious to strangers who might be sharing my sidewalk.   

“Hello, there,” his voice jolted me from my world of joyous abandon.  “I don’t suppose pretty little girls on red tricycles like mint candies.”

He held out a hand with wrinkles stretched almost smooth over swollen joints. Inside his hand was a single pink mint candy – the kind that was thick and chalky, with an initial carved in the top of it.
I stared at him. I wasn’t sure what he meant.

He chuckled slightly.  “Would you like it?”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. I studied the gentle old hand as I reached into it to retrieve the candy.  He watched as I popped the mint into my mouth. He stood smiling and watching until I had finished it completely. He didn’t appear to want to leave.

“Thank you,” I said again and smiled at him.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, and touched my hair. 

I rode my trike down the block, singing again. At the end of the block I turned to ride back and saw him turn the corner and disappear.

Every day we repeated the activity, adding conversation as our familiarity increased; until finally we were having lengthy talks about rabbits and castles and other topics of vital interest to us both. I never grew particularly fond of the mints, but I looked forward every day to seeing him turn the corner of our block and walk toward me with the offering hidden in his hand.

When winter came and my trike was stored in the basement, I didn’t think much about the end of his visits.  But when spring arrived and I rode my tricycle down the block for the first time, I instinctively looked around for a sign of the familiar figure. When I didn’t see him, I went on with my riding and singing as I had always done.  Finally, there he was, walking toward me with his fist wrapped around my piece of candy. I rode to him, grinning with joy. His look of confusion perplexed me. He straightened as I approached, and stared at me. 

“Perhaps you can help me, Miss,” he said.  “There use to be a little girl who rode her tricycle here.  She was just a little thing and had a tricycle very much like yours. I have something for her.”

“It’s me,” I insisted.  “It’s me you give the candy to.”

“No, no,” he seemed completely sincere.  “This girl was little.  You’re much bigger and more grown up than she was.”

“I got bigger during the winter,” I protested.

He shook his head convincingly.  “Oh, I’m afraid you can’t be the same little girl I’m talking about.”  He paused. “Well, since she’s not here, I guess I’ll give the candy to you.”  He smiled and offered me the mint. 

Although he may have thought we shared the joke, I felt as if a part of me had ceased to exist.  I didn’t want to be grown up. I wanted him to recognize me as he had before.  Our relationship continued for a short time, but it was never the same in my mind. I was convinced that he saw me differently and somehow that made me act different in his presence.

One day, he stopped coming by. I watched for him day after day. I still rode my trike up and down the sidewalk, but I didn’t sing with such abandon anymore. Instead I kept an eye on the corner of the block and wished that someday he’d turn the corner, see me and say, “There you are – the little girl I give my candy to.”  But he didn’t come again. 

And finally, I quit watching for him.

Exercise Helps Reduce Hot Flashes

Everytime I see an article on hot flashes, I'm there. The National Institutes of Health (www.nih.gov) are conducting an ongoing study about the effects of menopause, and their research is finding that exercise may curtail many menopausal symptoms like anxiety, insomnia and night sweats. An article on MSNBC summarizes the findings of the possible benefits of exercise to reduce hot flashes.

One woman in the article went from an hourly hot flashes to 5 or 6 a day, and she's losing some serious weight as well.

My New Health Regimen: Wine and Chocolate

I always knew diet was important. When nutritionists began telling us that we could live longer by cutting certain foods from our diets and eating more of others, I had no doubt they were right. I just wasn‘t sure if I wanted to live longer without alcohol, chocolate or salty snacks. Now they tell us those are exactly the things we need to have more of if we want to cross into REALLY old age. Eureka! Nutrition had finally become my friend!

With new antioxidants being discovered every day, we completely lucked out when researchers discovered flavonoids in chocolate and started recommending that we add a half ounce of dark chocolate to our diet every day. It’s actually good to eat more, as long as you don’t finish every one of the Hershey miniature dark chocolates before you pour the bag into the office candy bowl.  Unfortunately, as you add chocolate squares you have to cut back on your potato chip consumption to reduce the extra calories.

The recommended intake of red wine keeps will thrill you, unless you’re a beer drinker, in which case you’ll just have to eat more chocolate. With an abundance of reservatrol in red wine, you can actually stabilize blood glucose levels by getting mildly drunk on two glasses of a good Zinfandel. If you drink 5 to 15 glasses a day you produce life-extending effects from cellular rejuvenation. Life gets better and better! Of course with 15 glasses of red wine every day your liver would shrivel up and hide behind your spleen within a week.

Okay, so here is my health care regimen: I’m relaxing in the evening, savoring my rich, dark chocolate bar – which, incidentally tastes magnificent with the Red Zin – when I realize that I’m missing the salty snack I love with my dark chocolate. Since I cut back on potato chips, I’m forced to grab a handful of roasted, salted almonds – a valuable source of omega-6 fatty acids, phytosterols and tocopherols, good for lowering my risk of Parkinson’s, and my cholesterol level. All I have to do now is eat a bowl of delicious, juicy blueberries before bed and my aching, arthritic joints feel better from the anthocyanins and polyophenols. 

Food just isn’t that complicated. I would bet that almost no one doesn’t know that potato chips are bad – almonds are good. This is all based on common sense – if we would ever listen to that little voice that provides common sense to us. And, just like my recent discovery that bacon is the secret to longevity for my parents, red wine and chocolate would be the secret to longevity for me, even without research to substantiate it.

The additional good news is that Dr.Perricone, the guru of food and vitamins for skin improvement, says that the above-mentioned foods, plus cantaloupe and salmon, will make you look younger within just a few days – IF that’s all you eat.

But nevermind. A healthy diet of fruits, nuts and salmon, with the luxurious treat of a little red wine and chocolate daily, will keep your skin looking good, your arthritis in check and, if I failed to mention it earlier, your brain functioning clearly.  Plus, you’ll have a great big smile on your face from enjoying the heck out of eating again.

Younger Next Year: Good Food, Good Health and Good Clothes!

My friend Mary told me about a book on the New York Times Bestseller list, titled Younger Next Year for Women, by Harry Lodge and Chris Crowley.

The claim: You can turn back your biological clock. You can become functionally younger every year for the years to come and continue to live with the vitality and grace you had when you were young. You can avoid up to 70 percent of the decay and eliminate up to 50 percent of the injuries and illnesses associated with getting older.

Their first book on the subject was actually a book for men, but the fact is that women have even more to gain from Younger Next Year. Just as the average woman lives longer (three decades past menopause) than the average man, the average woman has more anxiety about aging.

The book covers menopause and postmenopause at length, cardiac disease, osteoporosis, sexuality, even finances. It adapts its simple, lifesaving motivational rules—Exercise Six Days a Week, Don’t Eat Crap, Connect to Other People—to contemporary women’s lifestyles. Their mantra is simple: Instead of letting age happen to you, take the bull by the horns and choose growth over decay.

They also have a very comprehensive, health oriented Web site that will map out meal plans and give fitness advice (with your doctors approval) and also explain many of the changes that our bodies go through as we age. Dr. Lodge also give fashion advice: don't dress like a little old lady: stay away from the frump! Clothes matter much more as people get older. It may take a bit more work, but nothing boosts the attitude more than knowing you look good - like the hot and fabulous Well Past 50 women we are!

www.youngernextyear.com

A New Mantra for Aging

I just read Nora Ephron’s new book, I Feel Bad About My Neck, and I was amazed that this famous author and screenwriter is actually my alter ego. If you’ve been reading this blog you know that my concern over my neck is second only to my concern over the loss of my eyebrows. The book touches on the losses all 50+ women are facing…the loss of perky breasts, eyebrows and, worst of all, dear friends.

Nora Ephron addresses the very personal concerns that women have about aging – concerns we may have thought were exclusively our own, until Ephron points out the fear and dread we all share over the losses yet to come.

Ephron says honestly that aging sucks. Yet she says it with such a humorous tone that we know she is not spending her remaining years locked in an apartment with 23 cats and her old Jim Croce albums. She is living life happily and productively, bringing happiness to the thousands of readers of her essays.

We have been indoctrinated to think that it’s anti-boomerlike to bash aging. We’re supposed to say things like, “I love being my age because I’m so much wiser and confident now than I was at twenty.” I’m with Ephron – I’d rather be twenty. 

But if she can admit to hating the aging process, while continuing to live life to the fullest, we all should join in with a new mantra, “I hate aging, but doggone-it, I’ll find SOMETHING to like about it.”

Sailing Away

Do any of you sail? My husband and I were walking along the river after a Sunday lunch when suddenly the river was filled with the beautiful sight of billowing white sails from one side of the river to the other. We stopped walking and stared at the awesome sight of two dozen or so sailboats being expertly maneuvered in and around each other, sails almost skimming each other as they passed.

We sat mesmerized on the riverbank for over an hour watching wind, water, sailcloth and human strength combine to create a beautiful ballet of skill and nature. The best part of this magnificent choreography was that it was being carried out by people who were mostly in my age group. They were not buff 20-somethings. They were mature people, gray haired and waistless, having the time of their lives. 

As always when I see people doing something that looks like fun, I decided I must learn how to do this. I marched myself into the Sailing Club and asked for an application form. “Oh, I’m sorry,” the little old sailor who runs the place told me, “our last class ended today.  Please join us next year.”

NEXT YEAR!!  I may not be here NEXT YEAR!  I want to learn now!

I haven’t figured out how to do that yet, but I’m dying to know if any of you sail and whether I’m too old to learn, too decrepit to do it safely, and if it’s too expensive to even think about taking up as a hobby.

I have the river. I have the love of everything aquatic. I just need to know if I have the money and the necessary strength at 57 to take up this new hobby. If you’re a sailor who knows the ropes, post your comments or email me, Matey!