Is There Life After 50?

It has been many years since I wrote a blog. When I was younger, music was my passion, and so I predictably started writing about music and the music heroes of my youth. What do you do, however, when you discover that the heroes of your youth were nothing more than glorified drug addicts? Write about what you know best, said all of my college English professors, and that is what I've decided to do.

Life after 50. 50 is the new 40. There are so many cliches surrounding what used to be called 'The Golden Years', and rightly so. Who wants to admit that their journey through life is probably half-way finished? Who can't but help going to high school reunions, and looking at all of the sucked-in paunch, the carefully highlighted hair, the masterfully applied Botox, and wonder why we work so hard to preserve our long-gone youthful glow? No one at 50 can look as they did in those high school pictures splashed throughout the gym.  Yet, we persist. I should say that some persist. I, for one, have decided to embrace the face that I've earned, wrinkles and all. The grey hair has stayed grey, at least the hair that has remained is left untouched by a hairdresser's magical color chart. Why have I decided to buck convention and go au naturel?

I have battled teenagers. I have battled coworkers. I have battled husbands, who later turned with great bitterness into ex-husbands.  I have braved the middle-aged dating scene, where married men creep out of their man caves to hunt for desperate divorcees or bored housewives, looking for a no strings attached sexual adventure. No dinner and drinks offered, only a quick tumble in the back of a practical minivan.  I have survived all of the above, older and wiser, and with a head full of grey hair. I have survived raising three teenaged daughters on my own, and I have the wrinkles to prove it.  I have survived.  And I have no desire to Botox and color to hide my victories over life's challenges.  I don't mind getting older, although truth be told, I don't recognize the face looking back at me in the mirror.  Looking at old pictures of myself is not always pleasant. But I have won, and survived.

What would I tell my 18 year-old self, as I headed off to college full of hopes and dreams of love and riches? Be careful of whom you tie the knit with. Buy better birth control. Kids are a blessing, but they are also a curse when they bind you to Frankenstein's Monster, which is what I will call my ex from here on out. Chose a profession that gives you more financial freedom, and less community service. Finally, I'd say to take care of yourself. Beauty is fleeting.