Age is just a number Embracing my 64 years but living life with the energy and spirit of a 34-year-old. Despite family criticism, I won’t let go of my passion for partying.
Age is Just a Number Embracing Life at 64 and Living it to the Fullest, Despite Family Judgments.
I wasn’t much of a party girl in high school — primarily because I had strict parents who enforced stringent curfews. But college was a different story. I went to a small school far from home and quickly discovered the freedom of dorm life with minimal rules. It was a whirlwind of non-stop parties, and once I swallowed my first shot of tequila at a frat house, I was immediately sucked into the party life.
I partied in college and then got married and had kids. Soon, I hosted my own parties off campus while honing my bartending skills. If my friends and I weren’t drinking hunch punch in the woods around a bonfire, we were hanging out at our favorite disco bar, snorting or smoking whatever someone pulled out of their leather crossbody saddle bag in the restroom.
After college, my party days dwindled down to an occasional Saturday night out with the girls, where we sipped cheap chardonnay and dissed our boyfriends. Within a few short years, I was married, paying a mortgage, and raising four kids. My partying days were far behind, but out of sight didn’t always mean out of mind. Whenever I saw groups of younger women brunching at restaurants where the conversation and mimosas flowed freely, I yearned for my carefree college days. Sipping Kool-Aid from a styrofoam cup was a far cry from doing Jägerbombs at the club. However, I accepted it as my new normal because, like most moms, my children’s happiness took precedence over my own interests.
When I became an empty nester, everything changed. Freedom never tasted so sweet, and I found plenty of reasons to celebrate it. My adult daughters and I hit the nightclubs together and danced until our feet ached. Yes, I was the oldest person throwing back shots at the bar and taking the occasional edible, but I didn’t care what others thought. My girls and I were having fun; all that mattered was laughing and living in those moments together.
Becoming a grandmother years later didn’t stop my desire to have fun. My circle of friends became considerably younger since most of my peers — in their 60s like me — were already asleep by 9 p.m. on a Saturday night. But on the fringes of my fun came a certain amount of shaming, mostly from my siblings and elderly parents. They criticized how much I enjoyed going out on the town, drinking and dancing until late in the evening. Rather than let judgmental remarks such as, “You’re having another margarita?” or, “You’re too old to go clubbing with kids in their thirties,” bother me, I chose to ignore their sarcasm and toxic attitudes. Several social media photos of me with drinks in my hand were also filled with passive-aggressive remarks from considerably older friends who questioned my partying habits.
It was never a problem until the afternoon of my daughter-in-law’s baby shower. There had been a lot of tension while organizing the party, and a sense of frustration was festering among the families. The edginess I felt spiked my anxiety, so I tried to calm my nerves with a glass of champagne, which was quickly followed by another and another, all on an empty stomach. Everything was fuzzy before I knew it, and my husband was shooting me side-eye looks. We argued, and then the rest of the family got involved, disrupting what was supposed to be a happy day for the mother-to-be.
Ashamed, I apologized for my behavior and vowed that it would never happen again — and it hasn’t. However, what surprised me wasn’t the gossip surrounding the incident as much as the comments about a “woman my age” partying. There are endless misconceptions about the social stereotypes of grandmothers and the roles they’re expected to play in society. But not all grandmothers knit blankets and bake homemade bread. Of course, I love baking cookies with my grandbabies and going to the park or a Disney movie with them, but I also enjoy rock concerts, Zumba classes, and poolside cocktails with my friends. Now that I’m on the other side of the hill, I appreciate life more since time is getting shorter, but every day that I’m alive and healthy is a reason to celebrate. Even my husband jokes that although my body is 64, my brain is still 34 with the same stamina and joie de vivre of my youth. Partying will always be a part of my life, and I don’t plan on stopping all the fun — I just do it a bit more cautiously nowadays.
So, if you need to find me, look for the grandma in the shimmery pink dress — I’ll be the one leading the conga line at your next party.
Marcia Kester Doyle is the author of “Who Stole My Spandex? Life In The Hot Flash Lane” and the voice behind the midlife blog Menopausal Mother.
