by Shelley Mendias

Created on: November 19, 2007   Last Updated: June 29, 2009

Eighty Six million baby boomers turned sixty this year. Congratulations to me! I am in the first year of the baby boomer alumnus. I have arrived. I am there. I am old.

Americans spent $44.6 billion on anti-aging products and services last year. Looking at the products piled neatly on top in the drawers of my vanity along with the medicine chest, I thought, hmm that's about right.

The latest products that I ordered with the promise of youthful skin contained an herb that was extracted from India. "It's a miracle" the suntanned host that looked like he was laden with Botox heralded from the infomercials blaring from my TV. I order it, I used it, and it put it with the rest of the wonder creams I bought this past year.

Feeling a bit down in the dumps, I thought about a coworker from many years ago who told me that there are many rewards as we get older. So with pen and a paper I began "My List of Rewards." After I decide a drink might be in order I return to my desk and tap, tap, tap the pen on my paper as I think. I am wiser, my children do not live with me, I adore my grandchild and I am much more outspoken, all part of the aging process. As the saying goes, only little children and old folks tell the truth.

Not too much on my paper, I thought, as I continued tapping and contemplating what else I could add. It was hardly worth the time I spent looking for a pen.

I sauntered over to the full-length mirror and surveyed the way my body had changed; I definitely didn't reap any rewards there. Where is the reward now that every body part has given way to gravity. The more I looked in the mirror and the added depression set in, I realized that there wasn't a body part that didn't have some age degeneration, from my graying hair to my dry cracking feet. Even though I was the only one who knew this, thanks to the many cover up manufacturers and service providers who made all that money.

Damn! I knew I should have started a bank account years ago earmarked for plastic surgery.

Making a mental note to inform all the young women I know to do just that. Time goes by quickly; before one knows it, a little ip and tuck is in order and there are no funds. One day you will be looking in the mirror thinking, I should have listened to that old lady. I don't want to say I told you so. Plastic surgeons and dermatologist do not take insurance. At ten dollars a skin tag it can get quite costly.

There is one good thing about getting old. When I hit the forty-year mark my eyesight greew so

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