That's Life: The new twenty

Issue of May 22, 2009 /28 Iyar 5769

Dear That’s Life,

So I hear that 30 is the new 20.

Does that mean that the woman who is pregnant at 66 with her first child is really 56?  And does that mean I had my first when I was 13?  How old was I then when I got married?  This must be some kind of ‘new math.’  I’m still trying to grasp Sequential I or whatever we called it in high school. But all I know is that it seems that like a fine wine (or like a smelly cheese), some of us might be getting better with time.

Women discussing their age can sometimes be very humorous. From the woman who does not mention her age at all and finds it offensive when her age is asked, to the woman who wears the number with pride, regardless of whether the number she shares is true, different people handle growing older differently. My father would say that ‘it’s only a number’ and that ‘you’re only as old as you feel.’ But when my friend started wearing reading glasses after she turned 36, I am not sure she’d agree.

Getting my post Lag B’Omer haircut, I listened attentively as the woman next to me explained what was wrong with the cut she had just received. It seemed that when she got to her car, after the cut was over and her hair was blown, she really did want bangs. So she came back in, her teenage daughter in tow.

“Oh, I completely agree,” said the stylist.  “I think long bangs would look great.” After explaining what that meant (who knew?), the client agreed. “I just see myself with bangs,” she explained. “The rest of the cut is nice, but it is too serious without the bangs.”

“Of course,” continued the stylist, concurring, and then for some reason decided to add, “And it’ll make you look so much younger.”

Time seemed to suddenly stand still as the person in the chair next to me stiffened.  Maybe saying that the bangs give her haircut a ‘youthfulness’ would have been better, but that’s not what she said, nor would it be where she ended it. “Um, I mean,” said the stylist, “it makes you look so much prettier.”

I’m sorry. Was that supposed to make it better?

Sensing the tension, the person cutting my hair decided to save her friend. “I love my birthday,” she said. “I look forward to it every year.” “Really?” said the other client. “Sure,” she added. “I never get older – I celebrate the same number every year.”  “Actually,” she continued, “I stopped counting a long time ago.”

“I lost a year,” said the client with her new bangs, as if this was a support group. “I realized this year I had been counting wrong.” Hmm, I wondered…more new math?

“Really?” said the stylist.  “Wow –– so how old are you really?”  “Well,” said the client.  “I thought I was 42, but I’m really 43,” she explained.  Surprised, the stylist responded, “Wow – that’s not what I thought you were going to say,” adding, “you look so much younger.”  And it was at this point that the daughter piped up. “Must be those bangs,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

You can always leave it to your kids for a serious, unsolicited, reality check. They’re great at that.

MLW