It's all about the angles after 50

Anyone who knows me knows I don’t like change.

When my editor told me she wanted me to get a new column photo taken, my first thought was panic. The picture I’ve been using is probably 8 years old. A lot happens to a woman’s face in eight years, people.

I’ve kept my gray covered, and a friend pointed out that my hairstyle is basically the same. I don’t think she meant it as a compliment.

So I got gussied up and went to Little Rock to get my new picture taken, and a lot of other people were, too. Most were younger than me, though.

When it was my turn, I reminded the drop-dead gorgeous photographer, who’d look good from any angle, that she needed to shoot women of my age from ABOVE to help with the whole double-chin thing. (Seeing myself when I accidentally look down into my cellphone camera is truly a frightening experience.)

A longtime friend of mine at the newspaper, who is my age, agreed wholeheartedly with the camera-angle thing. So the sweet photographer had someone go fetch a stepladder for her to use.

When I was younger, I used to get a little impatient with people when I’d take their picture and they’d comment about needing a special filter for wrinkles, or weight, or blah, blah. I get it now. Seeing your body change is hard. A woman I know told me last week that her 98-year-old grandmother, who lives alone, is still a little shocked when she looks in the mirror. Her grandmother said she felt like it was only yesterday that she was dancing and running around — because you feel basically the same inside as you age outside.

I think I feel about 40 instead of someone turning 54 in August. My knees, arthritic fingers and sketchy memory remind me I’m half a century-plus.

Of course, life is all about change. Some changes are wonderful and are what make life worth living.

I started writing this column for another publication when my 27-year-old son was about 1 1/2 years old. Now he’s married and has an almost 4-week-old baby.

Through the years, I’ve written about him losing his first tooth, going to kindergarten, getting a baby brother, going to prom, graduating from high school and college, getting married and becoming a dad.

A woman next to me at a clothing store a couple of weeks ago asked my name and said she thought she recognized me; she’d just read my column about becoming a grandmother, and it reminded her of how she felt when her grandchildren were born. I was happy about two things: She recognized me, and I got to show off pictures of my granddaughter.

When I got the photos to choose from for my column, I was shocked to see the skin sagging so much on my eyes in one photo. I made a mental note to start an eye-lift fund.

So, yes, I’ve changed. I’m older and maybe a little wiser.

And really happy to still be here doing what I love, wrinkles and all.