Mary McNamara: 60 isn't the new 40 and that's fine by me
I just turned 60, which seems, in equal measure, simply impossible and no big deal.
No matter how you look at it, 60 is a big number — 10 more push-ups than anyone should ever be asked to do — situated inarguably on the back end of even the modern female lifespan. I could continue to call myself middle-aged, but even if it were possible, do I want to live to be 120? No, I do not.
But honestly, how can I be 60 when I still don't know how to apply foundation or fold a fitted sheet? When my idea of a perfect meal is graham crackers and peanut butter, and my notion of "tidying" is putting the books that cover every surface of my home into a stack and calling it a day?
I am grateful to be alive, especially after a pandemic, but I certainly don't as they enter their seventh decade.
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