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Each decade of a person’s life has their good, bad and ugly moments.
I remember the first years of my first decade of life. I was 2 years old and reveled in the moments my mom ran to pick me up just because I threw a fit. She fed and cleaned me, and I had no responsibilities. Those were the good old days; the easy life.
As a teenager, I could get angry without a reason I didn’t have to justify myself or my actions. I was able to release my emotions with no real consequences because of my age. A friend of mine treated a zit like it was a life-ending explosion and never even got grounded.
When I hit my 20s, I felt a sense of freedom. I could come and go as I chose, drink, had my own money and could wear a bikini without getting banned from the beach. I could also cry on the spot to get out of a ticket.
When I hit 30, I remember freaking out because I was no longer in my 20s. Thirty seemed so old to me, that I didn’t know how I would make it to 31. I cried and swore I’d never celebrate another birthday. That decade was horrifying, or maybe it was just the day I actually turned 30; I can’t really recall these days, as my memory often alludes me.
The very day I turned 40, my back ached and my eyesight changed in similarity to that of the star-nosed mole (it’s a real creature). I also remember doing a cartwheel in the yard just as I had when I was a gymnast in high school.
Not only did I not receive a perfect score but I was laid up with a cast on my leg for six weeks eating Cheetos cheese puffs. And I got fat. I never used to gain weight eating cheese puffs.
When I hit my 50s, I felt even older than I did when I turned 30. I noticed, however, that I started getting discounts at movie theaters and restaurants based on my age. I felt a sense of power coming back.
In this decade, I was able to stick my tongue out at younger folks who had to pay full price for everything. I also reached a point where I no longer cared about what others thought of me and realized I was OK without their opinions. In fact, I often gave others a piece of my mind just to make up for all the times I shrank at their comments.
Then 60 arrived, and I had to be closer to bathrooms, use moisturizes by the gallon and was in bed by 8 p.m., for cryin’ out loud. I’m somewhere in my 60s today; however, I’m still flexible enough to turn a light switch on or off with my foot when my hands are full, so there’s a bright star.
I’ve come to realize as I age there’s nothing that I can do about certain things; therefore, I must learn to relax and just let them run their course. As I observe my grandparents, I realize there is no longer any need to apologize when you’re the source of noise you used to excuse yourself for.
With longevity running in my family, I look forward to – well, I just forgot where I was going with that.
My husband still makes me feel sexy as I age and often asks me to dance for him. His sight’s so bad now, he doesn’t realize the pole I swing around is actually my cane. Bless his heart.
Anngee Quinones-Belian of Murphy is a staff correspondent for the Cherokee Scout. Her humor column runs every other week. Email her at anngeeq@gmail.com.