Ihad my 60th birthday in September of last year which causes me to reflect on things. I wonder what causes us to not care about the things we used to the older we get. It’s very freeing, isn’t it?
Was having a discussion with friends on social media the other night and Peggy Bell Morton asked me if I was going to tan the back of my legs. And I thought about it and said, “No. I don’t look back there anymore.”
I remember when Gene Stork was cutting my hair one time a while back. He held up a mirror so I could see the back of my head, but all I noticed were the neck rolls under my fresh haircut. But I don’t care. That’s for y’all to see and make fun of. I only look at me from the front anymore.
I think I was about 40 when my once fairly nice behind just up and fell off my backside. It’s flatter than a fritter back there now, and I don’t care. I don’t see it.
I worked for a melanoma company in Houston right before I moved back to Rockdale. I could have a melanoma on my back the size of a Frisbee and I wouldn’t know. I don’t look back there anymore.
Actually no one has looked at me in a very long time and I’m okay with that.
Remember when we were young, and we all cared so much about the way we looked? I figure if I’m not happy with it or resigned to it by 60 there’s really no hope. So I have a low maintenance haircut and my clothing is much more about comfort than fashion these days.
I wonder if we just evolved this way. Or maybe God had a hand in it to make us not care that our knees can’t do what they once did. Or those few extra pounds. Or those neck rolls. I don’t care.
I know not to run because I know my knees will scream at me the next day. I do go to the gym sometimes, but I don’t really do it to lose weight. I do it because I want to keep living to see how much more “I don’t care” I’ll get. Because I like not caring.
And I don’t mean to say I don’t care about anything. I care about lots of things. Just not things I cared about when I was young and stupid. I care about my parents and all my other family members. I care about my job which I really enjoy even though it’s hard to take any time off.
I care about my town, and I really care about all the growth that is coming and all the opportunities the growth will bring. And hopefully Whataburger and HEB. Maybe a Costco.
I care about my friends in high places around town and I’m happy about our working relationships and being kept informed so I can get the news out to all of our readers, whom I also care deeply about.
I care about our employees. Without them I couldn’t do this job. They all make me look good in one way or another.
One of the most rewarding things about this job is getting compliments on the things people enjoy about The Reporter. “I tried your recipe! It was so good!” And “I laughed my fool head off when you wrote about these sidewalks!”
That means so much to me.
I have a set of “ladies of a certain age” whom I absolutely care about and love. They are where a lot of the compliments originate.
But I don’t care what the back of me looks like anymore. Or, if I’m really being honest, the front of me either.
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