Getting Real About Aging Bodies

1950's Sunset Boulevard (Paramount Pictures)

I was watching Sunset Boulevard this morning and one of William Holden's lines jumped out at me. He said,

"There's nothing tragic about being fifty. Not unless you're trying to be twenty-five." 

Granted, this is the sort of thing people would say in 1950. Women seemed to age faster then. Seriously. Look at pictures of your grandmother or other women over forty from that era. See many glamour girls? I'd say the odds are that you see mature women sporting house dresses, grey hair, chunky brown shoes, little or no jewelry, little or no make up, and hair-dos like buns or short perms. Right? Fashion, slim figures, time-consuming beauty treatments, and pretty shoes were for young women who were still looking for husbands...or something like that.

Today women of all walks of life are able to maintain a youthful appearance for much longer than they could or would a half-century ago. It's not frowned upon. It's encouraged. I almost never hear people sneer at youthful-looking older women with comments like, "She should act [or dress] her age." Instead, they say things like, "I want to look like her when I'm that old." Mature actresses seem to be able to get more important roles in films today than they were able to in the 1950's, too. In fact, they often play grandmothers who look amazing...for any age!

But there's a little bit of a problem with all of this looking young in your forties and fifties (and sixties and seventies...) thing. Some of us can't keep up very well. We try, but we fall short. What do I mean? Well, let's take body shape, for example. Mine has morphed into something quite different than it used to be. I exercise sporadically instead of consistently, and I have a job that requires hours of sitting every day. Not enough calories are being burned. I have several friends with the same problem. I also have friends with terrific figures, but they have a hard time fending off wrinkles. Then there are the ones who decide to go all grey after years of coloring their hair in an effort to "age gracefully" or avoid chemicals that might kill them. This is a move I'm not even considering. Some pull off the grey look very elegantly, and others go back to coloring after the grey trial balloon doesn't float so well. I have a tiny handful of friends who seem to have none of these aging issues yet (Stop it! Not fair!), and another tiny handful who have thrown in the towel or are just extremely humble and don't give it a second thought (Good for you! or Good for you? I can't decide.).

I think most women feel like I do. They want to look the best they can look at their age, but they don't want to spend hours a day on it. They're doing the important stuff of life and wouldn't dare swap that for hours with a trainer every day or mortgaging everything for plastic surgery. We're real women with real lives, and our vanity does have a limit. Personally, I tend to do the things that seem easiest and skimp on the stuff that is more difficult. Manicures: easy. Taking good care of my skin: easy. Drinking lots of water: easy. Eating my fruits and veggies: easy. Taking my vitamins: easy. Exercising regularly: hard.

Unfortunately, that last one is really important.

After years of self-analysis, I have concluded that there are three reasons I don't exercise regularly:

• I set exercise goals that are not realistic for me. It's not realistic that I will get on the treadmill every day. I will not do it. I know I will not do it. I'll do it for 4 days in a row, then I'll miss one day, then I'll feel like a failure, then I'll stop altogether for a month.
• I will not go outside and exercise if it's too hot, too cold, or raining. I just won't. (You Nike people will, but I won't.) 
• I do too much at once. In an effort to make up for lost time, I will walk five miles. The next day my feet and knees get really mad about that. Other times I'll go nuts doing a gazillion (approximate number) squats or sit-ups. Two days later, I can barely move. I sabotage myself with my own good intentions.

Today I walked a mile. I felt like it wasn't enough. But it felt good. And, as is often case, I came up with an idea while I was walking. What if I took that line from Sunset Boulevard to heart when it comes to exercise? 

"There's nothing tragic about being fifty. Unless you're trying to be twenty-five." 

What if I change my exercise expectation to being a healthy forty-something instead of reclaiming the body I had at twenty-five? What if I alter my food portions to fit the metabolism of woman my age rather than that of a twenty-five-year-old? Because, really, it is sort of tragic to expect yourself to have the body you had decades ago. Bodies change with age. (Note: Some change way more than others. I have a friend in her fifties who can eat like a man, never exercise, and fit into a size 6.) I think I should make peace with my body in this department. I've been expecting it to be something it can't be; it's been getting its feelings hurt; and we've both gotten depressed and just wanted to take a nap.

Here's my new goal (Those of you who have had personal experience with my goal-setting may be rolling your eyes at this point.): Eat smaller portions and walk a mile outside whenever the weather is nice. I might also do a treadmill session here and there. But no lofty expectations. I know I may not achieve much with a one-mile walk on sunny days only, but it's something. I've got to work with myself here. Do you think it will work? Maybe I shouldn't ask. It's a reasonable goal, though, don't you think?