Life truly begins at 60 | The African Dawn

Everyone says life begins at 40 but, clearly, they hadn’t hit 60 yet – the glorious age when you finally stop caring what anyone thinks and start living like a slightly creaky rock star.

At 60, you no longer have to pretend to like kale. You eat that slice of cake that you would normally pass on and lick the icing off the spoon, because frankly, who’s judging?

Everyone your age is too busy adjusting their reading glasses to see what you’re doing anyway.

You wake up one morning, look at the grey hairs in the mirror and think: “Well, at least I have hair. And my own teeth. Others my age don’t.”

You start wearing bright colours just because they make you happy; not because they’re “age-appropriate”. You dance fervently in your kitchen, talk to your plants, and hum along to music your children call “vintage”.

You reply: “Darling, so am I.”

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The best part of 60 is the newfound superpower called selective hearing. You can tune out boring conversations, annoying adverts and political nonsense with ease. It’s not rudeness. It’s self-preservation.

And while you may forget where you put your car keys, you never forget who poured you the last glass of wine.

At 60, you also stop being polite about nonsense.

Someone tries to sell you “age-defying” cream? You laugh. Someone calls you “ma’am” at the supermarket? You grin and say: “That’s Queen Ma’am to you.”

Yes! You’ve earned your wrinkles, your laugh lines and your right to nap in the middle of the day without guilt.

There’s also a delicious mischief that comes with being 60. Tried and tested many times. You can get away with saying outrageous things – “back in my day…” – and watch the young ones squirm.

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You start calling people “dear” whether they’re five or 50. And when you do decide to flirt with the waiter, you can always blame it on the “medication”.

Sixty isn’t the beginning of the end.

Oh no, it’s the grand opening of the I-don’t-give-a-damn era. It’s when you finally understand that life’s too short for uncomfortable shoes, bad coffee and fake friends.

So yes, life does begin at 60. It’s louder, funnier, braver and comes with better stories.

And if anyone disagrees, tell them you’re too busy living to argue.

You’ve got cake to eat, music to play and the best years still to misbehave in.

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