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309 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2006
I said I would be sixty in a few months, and couldn't wait.
"Yes," said Mrs. Glasses-on-Strings, trying to ingratiate herself with me. "You're only as old as you feel. Sixty years young!"
"Sixty going on twenty!" said the therapist.
"I really can't agree," I said. "If you're sixty, you're sixty. Sixty is old. I am just longing to be old, and I don't want to be told I'm young, when I'm not. ... When I was twenty, sixty was old, when I was thirty, forty and fifty, sixty was still old. I'm not going to change the goal posts now."
"I'm sixty," said Marion ... "But I don't feel a day over thirty!"
"But, Marion, don't you realize that that's tragic?" I said. "To continue feeling thirty for the whole of you life! So boring! A nightmare! I'm longing to feel sixty! What's wrong with that?"
"The great thing about age," said the therapist ... "Is that it's never too late. You can do so many things. Take an Open University degree, go bungee jumping, learn a new language..."
"But it is too late!" I argued. "That's what's so great about being old. You no longer have to think about going to university, or go bungee jumping! It's a huge release! I've been feeling guilty about not learning another language for most of my adult life. At least I find that now, being old, I don't have to! There aren't enough years left to speak it. It'd be pointless!"
"Well, I feel," said the therapist, defiantly, "that now I am sixty-five, anything is possible."
"I find, approaching sixty," I said, "that the great pleasure is that so many things are impossible. I think," I added, cruelly, putting my hand on his arm and smiling a great deal to pretend I meant no harm, "that you're in what you therapists call denial."
- p. 7-8.