Living in Argentina: Life in a Construction Zone
Dancing Argentine Tango: Save the Last Dance for Me

Living in Argentina: Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me, When I'm 64

That number.  It happened last week. To be honest I never thought that I would live that long. I remember that when I was 17, I confided to my sister that I thought I would only live to 30.  Well, that didn't happen.  Obviously.

In my early twenties, I visualized myself in the year 2000, as a mere 47.  I saw myself as fat, dumpy, and a grandmother. It didn't happen.  Actually, it still hasn't happened.  Maybe things have dropped a bit, but my stomach is flat, I can climb 10 flights of stairs easily and more if I have to.  Thank God for the gym, Botox, and of course Dr. Mobilia

64 is really not so bad. The only thing is that you realize that you are running out of time.  You never think about that in your 20s, 30s, or even 40s, but now yes.  I want to see the world.  I want to learn another language, and there is the book that is taking forever to write.  

I am an eternal Peter Pan.  It's not that I won't grow up, it is just that I refused to get old. Big difference. Tastefully I still wear platforms, bell bottoms, skinny jeans, and clunky jewelry.  The mini skirts had to be phased knees no.  Gigi was right.  I look at my hands and see the hands of Grandma Brown, complete with nails, not that icky coral nail polish.  Maybe black, puce, or navy blue, Coty coral never, and not her nasty habit of poking people in the head with those nails of hers. Black or blue eyeshadow and eyeliner.  Maybe I am reliving the 70s again, but thinner, and happier.

Here is the best part of being 64.   I don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks about me.  I don't care.  I say what I mean, I don't pad around.  That came from my dysfunctional family.  I never knew when my mother was going to erupt and spew her madness at me or whoever was in her path. I always tried to second guess her craziness so as not to be the one to be mowed down. Unfortunately your childhood stays with you, and for years I tried to second guess so that I would not suffer the wrath of anyone's evil.  It didn't work. Now I don't worry about it. I can't be responsible for what is not mine.  Now I can even write this, and not care that "my biological family will seethe with anger about my version."  My familia de corazón understands. 

I have lots to be thankful for.  I live in a country that I have come to love as mine.  I came to Argentina to dance tango, and I stayed because I liked it. Many of my Argentine friends confided to me on Facebook ,on my birthday, that they never thought I would stay, yet here I am, super happy I did.  

I might not have great knees, but I have a great life, and that is the best birthday present, besides Maxi coming home.





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