Liver Spots

My new dermatologist looked at my stomach and said, "those are age marks or liver spots, and they're just going to get worse."  I kind of liked the way that the red dots formed the Big and Little Dipper. I nodded.

These days, I happily tell students that I'm older than their parents. I joke that the population is getting older -- except me, with a wink.

I'm beginning to embrace "sixty."  Sixty doesn't happen until October, and not until toward the end of the month, if anyone's counting. I might be willing to face it early (though doing anything early is not really like me). Do it now, then it's one less thing to worry about, my boyfriend would say (I might have mentioned that he's a contractor and likes the idea of "punch lists").

Maybe I'm relaxing into the idea, with my red liver dots and gray hairs. But I'm not letting go of getting a tan and staying in shape (damn it). I have to be able to stay up with all my other sixty year old friends who don't look our age at all.

There's a chance that I could be entering my prime; I always did things a little later. Imagine that -- staying in my lane more, but really tearing it up. Okay, that's too much to live up to. I do like the "lane" idea, though. That would be good for me. And doing more of what I'm good at doing.