Let’s face it. Or not. Boomers are jonesing for plastic surgery procedures that will turn back the clock. The over 55 demo is seeking liposuction, botox and fillers that will make them look younger. What’s driving the big increase? Besides just wanting to look younger, this group also has a high divorce rate and that means they are back in the dating pool. Bad online dating site photos can kill a boomer’s chances right out of the gate.

Facelifts (rhytidectomy) top the list and last year boomers accounted for two-thirds of them. And half of all eyelid surgeries. The facelift fixes sagging skin, deep fold lines, jowls, and those turkey neck things that can really kill the buzz. Plan to spend north of $7K if you’re in the market for this fix.

Liposuction removes fat and contours what’s left behind. Throw a tummy tuck in there and you’re looking at a $3,500 and up price tag.

Hair transplants can remedy thinning mats and bald spots for men who want to get back that Woodstock look they’ve been missing. The cost varies with how much acreage you need to repair.

Breast augmentation is still popular and involves implants or fat transfer. That will run somewhere over $4K.

Finally, botox and fillers help to correct crow’s feet and forehead lines for as little as $400 bucks.

Add in a gym membership, loads of vitamins and health supplements, and a sporty car and you’ll be all set to start dating again.

Is it really worth it? I guess that depends upon how unhappy you are about your physical appearance and how motivated you are to seek out rewarding companionship. Anything that makes you feel more happy about your self-image can’t be all bad. We look in the mirror every morning and every night (and some of us look even more times than that) so if what you see makes you unhappy, maybe it’s time to invest in your physical and mental well-being.

Or you could just buy a Kindle and a Netflix streaming account and not leave home anymore. Life is harsh.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

I have some nice jewelry – not diamonds or gold – mostly unique silver pieces from when we lived in Egypt and silver, turquoise, coral and sugilite from the American southwest. I viewed them as wear-to-work or out-for-dinner, and I’m not doing much of either these days. My retirement wardrobe is functional and not particularly stylish.

For some reason, I worry about what happens to our stuff when we die. We have wills and all that, but there’s this weird dark side of me that considered selling everything little by little, so that by the time we die, all the good stuff will be gone. My dad used to sell our toys if we took a bathroom break, so I’m thinking this may be another oddity from the gene pool.

So, yes, I thought about selling my jewelry, among other household items, but silver isn’t all that valuable and I don’t really want to part with the stones. As they say, you can’t take it with you. I’ve decided to start wearing it, possibly even adopting the look of a crazy lady who wears all her jewelry at once. By the way, this does align with my vision of pretending I am a Bohemian heiress who spends her later years dabbling in what amuses her.

I’ve always leaned minimalist, and it was not hard to follow Coco Chanel’s advice about removing one piece before you leave the house. Why not add one piece before leaving the house? Or two? I’ve also decided items I reserved for special occasions can now come out to play. Kind of like using your good china, because it’s just sitting there otherwise.

My silver concho belt with a rash guard and denim shorts? Birkenstocks? Why not? I shined up the belt and wore it to the grocery store. We were walking down the aisle, and Dale said, “That belt looks beautiful.” Wow, so that was worth it, right?

The bad news is I need to polish up the rest of my silver, but I’m excited about wearing some pieces that have been tucked away for quite a while. And wondering how I am going to mix it up … unusual combinations I hadn’t previously considered.

I’m also thinking about new ways to wear some of the work clothes I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of. And, oh, those cowboy boots from Texas.

If we do it right, retirement can be all about freedom. Maybe with aging, we lose the fear of being judged. Wear what you want, think what you want, say what you want, do what you want.

Just live your life. Wear the jewelry, use the good china.

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.

 

I could see the backs of the elderly couple in the Burger King booth. Side by side, they plowed into huge burgers and supersized fries. The man wore jeans, his shoulders not quite fleshing out the grampa-plaid flannel shirt. The woman had cocker spaniel-curled, blue-tinted hair due for a perm. More power to them, I thought, helping the economy by eating out.

The next time I looked up, I caught the man’s shoulders jerking and woman’s head bobbing. They were laughing. Imagine. What’s there to laugh about like teenagers on a date when you’re in your 80s.

So, on my way out, I stopped at their table. “Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I hope my wife and I are able to laugh together when we’re your age…or even have any jokes that we haven’t already laughed to death.”

The woman looked up, spoke for both, “Oh, we’re not married. His wife is gone. So is my husband. We just know each other from way back. Why my mother taught him to play piano. And I live on 118^th street and he lives on a farm. And how old do you think we are, anyhow?”

I had to step back a bit and reassess. She had obviously sized up my turkey wattle and thin gray hair. The look she flashed me made me pause. Like, I was someone she wouldn’t mind asking her out for a cherry Coke. Now I was embarrassed. I was certainly a lot closer in age to them than to anyone else in the place. And I suddenly realized that I was just a couple of rapidly accelerating years away from their age.

I decided to humor them by underestimating the old timers a bit and said, “80.”

“Well, I’m 82, and he’s 84,” she replied with chin firmly squared and lips tight. Ouch. They were a lot closer to my age than I guessed. The guy canted his head and held my eye with his clear baby-blues as if to say, what makes you think you’re so young and invulnerable that you can patronize us. Give yourself a couple of years, buddy and you’ll be glad to have someone to share a joke and a burger. Now quit crashing my date.

I smiled—more like grimaced—and took my leave; chastened about how slowly it takes for our self-image to catch up with our real age.

Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara and his wife live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/

 

About to retire? Want to know what your next job could be? Have you considered being a crossing guard? Seriously. You get to tell children what to do and they have to listen. You carry a big red sign that says STOP.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the growth occupations that will have a large percentage of older workers are real estate appraisers, technical writers (yeah, we still know how to write a sentence), tax preparers (and we can add and subtract), property managers (pick up your stuff off the floor!), building inspectors, crossing guards (I SAID STOP), and clergy (??).

These are jobs that are projected to have openings for those 55 and older through the year 2026. The best pay? Technical writers can earn $71k explaining to the rest of us how to set up a local area network or operate our new espresso machines.

Why are so many boomers moving into these occupations? For many, it’s the money. They are worried they have not saved enough or that social security alone won’t cover their expenses. According to an AARP survey, about 20 percent say they just enjoy working. Almost half the three million jobs added to the economy last year were filled by persons over age 55, so there is a serious demand out there and boomers are heeding the call of the labor market.

I get the demand for jobs in the real estate sector. Doing appraisals, inspection and property management don’t necessarily require life-long skill development and boomers are so judgmental (burn!) anyway. It’s the clergy category that has me stumped. Are boomers really interested in an occupation where the trust factor has sunk like a stone. Less than 20 percent of Americans attend church regularly accord to Gallup polls and organized religion would not seem to be a growth industry. The crossing guard could have a more positive impact on a young mind than a priest (burn again!) but you can’t argue with the statistics.

On the bright side, employers continue to seek out candidates with so called “soft skills” such as positive attitude and dependability. So, we’ve got this.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

Dale and I were having a philosophical discussion about life’s regrets, and he asked if I had any. He might have been holding his breath as he waited for my response.

I said, “I regret not getting the coconut cake at Barbara’s Fishtrap in Princeton-by-the-Sea.”

The cake looked so perfect, but I was all holier-than-thou about sugar, so I skipped it, and I’ve been thinking about that cake ever since … at least three years. There’s a clear snapshot in my head. I remember staring at the cake display from across the room. And then someone ordered it! Details emerged, and I ogled layers upon layers of pale creamy coco-nutty whipped fluffiness that only coconut lover can appreciate.

Then it was my turn to ask about regrets, as in, “How about you?” For a minute, I thought he’d go deep and reveal a profoundly sad truth from the bowels of his barren tender soul, but then I remembered he’s from Maine.

He said, “I regret not knowing about soft shell crabs when we lived in Pennsylvania.”

Oh, man, I share that regret. We didn’t discover soft shells until we lived in Alabama and started going to New Orleans for mini-vacations. Later, we lived on the Carolina coast, where they were also plentiful. In Texas, we had some good ones in Port Aransas.

Thinking about the coconut cake made me nostalgic for a hot fudge sundae. My mother used to treat us to hot fudge sundaes when we were out and about – sometimes at the lunch counter at J.J. Newberry’s, which was in one of the original outdoor malls in Orange County, where I grew up. Sometimes at Helen Grace Chocolates, which was in a strip mall.

I still love a good strip mall!

Anyway, I ate my lifetime supply of ice cream in 1973, when I oh-so-conveniently worked at an ice cream store. I love it when a plan comes together.

The store was a Carvel, with premium ice cream and excellent toppings, which could be scooped from a bin in the walk-in when no one was looking. It was during this unfortunate period when I ate hot fudge sundaes for breakfast, and I’ve been dreaming about them ever since. Seriously.

I’m not big on goals, but I’m adding the iconic ice cream creation to my list. List of what? I don’t know … things to do, things to eat, simple pleasures. I’m grateful coconut cake was the biggest regret I could muster, and notwithstanding the art of moderation, I don’t want to say at the end, “Damn, I wish I’d had that hot fudge sundae.”

At the end of it all, I am reminded of my mother. I believe her last words were, “Is there any more See’s?”

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.

 

I’m coming up on my third body part replacement next month. So far, I have a dead guy’s ACL stitched to the ACL in my right leg, and an ankle made of plastic and some sort of metal alloy. Up next is a partial knee replacement that involves a piece of metal I’m told won’t dent but will definitely light up the metal scanners at the airport.

When discussing my upcoming part replacement with a twenty-something co-worker, she excitedly told me that her grandmother had the exact same surgery! A comment met with a blank stare from me (I’m not old enough to be a grandmother, right? Also I don’t have kids). Although I’ve only just passed the double nickel milestone, I must seem ancient to her. But I am determined not to feel ancient. These body part replacements are giving me a second chance at an active life that for many years was stalled by the pain and weakness of a severe bone break turned arthritic, a torn ACL, and the hereditary joint destruction caused by arthritis that kicked in when I was 17. I’m not going to lie—recovery from parts replacements is hell but the benefits far outweigh the short-term struggle.

With my new parts, I’ve been able to do lots of things that, for years, I couldn’t: roaming 445 acres of the Iowa State Fair trying nearly every food on a stick, walking my dog, doing squats, riding my bike, wandering through junk jaunts, jumping around at concerts and music festivals, sitting during a two-plus hour plane trip, hoofing it from terminal A to terminal C in Atlanta, or taking road trips without sharp pains and stiffness. My parts replacements have been some of the best money my insurance company ever spent. Thanks, guys.

I spent my twenties, thirties, and forties working, working, and working some more to get the career, the car, the house. It was like being on a hamster wheel, and I rarely did the things I’ve done since parts replacement. But some of my parts are showing wear and need maintenance—like the car and the house. It happens; it’s inevitable, actually. If my parts replacements put me on the same level as my co-worker’s grandmother, that’s ok. I’ll gladly take the replaced parts and do things I was dumb enough not to do when I was younger.

Suzanne Guess lives in Des Moines, Iowa