Ann Brenoff’s “On The Fly” is a weekly column about navigating growing older ― and a few other things.

I believe that gray hair can be beautiful, which is not to say I ever want a single strand of it to sprout from my head. I admire women who can pull off having close-cropped white tresses or salt-and-pepper manes cascading down their backs. But me? Never going to happen. I will be the old lady in the nursing home who, with her last dying breath, asks for a touchup.

And for those who think there is something wrong with my devotion to keeping my gray hair at bay, I can only say this: My hair, my choice, and none of your damn beeswax.

The pressure is intense these days for older women to stop coloring their gray hair and instead embrace it in the name of accepting the aging process. 

The gray-positive movement touts the benefits of going gray, calling it liberating, empowering, and evidence that the owner of a headful of gray hair is someone comfortable in her own body. Much is made of the idea that by allowing your hair to go gray, it means you are unafraid of aging or growing old in a society that values youth and equates it with beauty. 

That’s all well and good. But I feel pretty much all those same things every time I reach for a box of L’Oréal.

To each his own, I say, and the gray-hair positive movement needn’t worry about my acceptance of my age. My pain in my left knee already does a perfectly fine job of letting me know that I am 68, and probably doesn’t need an assist from my scalp.

Sadly, we seem to have skipped a step when we made the cultural shift from our mothers’ generation, which was expected to painfully pluck out gray hairs with a tweezer as soon as they were spotted, to the current trend where women claim their decision to go gray is empowering. We skipped the part where everyone should really just get to do what they want, and everybody else should just shut up about it. 

If flying your freak flag gray emboldens you, I say go for it. If it helps you feel stronger and more self-confident because you no longer care what others think, good for you. As Janis Joplin sang to us long ago, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” Of course, life gets a whole lot easier when you aren’t trying to meet other people’s expectations. Welcome to the club, my gray-haired-by-choice friends.

Here’s a news flash for you: Mine are the only expectations I’m trying to meet. And my choice is not to have gray hair. Yet somehow that translates into a lack of acceptance from those who sport a headful of gray ― and who often want to tout the emotional well-being and enlightenment they experienced from going natural.

May I just say: There is nothing wrong with those of us who still want to color our gray hair. We are not trying to deny the aging process, nor are we trying to avoid looking our age. Nope, it’s not that at all.

I happen to think gray hair looks great on some people. I am just not one of them. I would no sooner dye my hair blonde, either. I don’t have the skin tone or complexion for it. Unlike my dark brown head of shoulder-length hair, it wouldn’t look right on me.

At the heart of the gray-positive trend is the idea that you shouldn’t do anything except accept yourself the way you are. I’d just ask that those who found enlightenment by no longer coloring their gray just let me do precisely that.

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you: Lea DeLaria is about to turn 60.

From becoming the first openly gay comic to perform on broadcast TV in America in 1993 to winning accolades for her performance as Big Boo on HBO’s “Orange Is The New Black,” the preternaturally youthful star has lived many lives during her almost six decades on our fair planet. And she doesn’t intend to give up the spotlight ― or her penchant for younger women ― anytime soon.

A month before she celebrates the big milestone ― and takes to the stage in New York City with her friends Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Sandra Bernhard and Alan Cumming for a special birthday show titled “This Is What 60 Looks Like, Bitches!” ― DeLaria talked to HuffPost about growing older in Hollywood, the perks of becoming a “daddy” and why she never worries about dying.

It’s honestly really odd for me to be turning 60 next month because I never thought I’d make it this far. In my 20s I was convinced that I was going to be shot by some creepy Christian at a gay pride rally. By the time I was 30, I was certain I’d be dead by the time I was 40 — and if you knew me then, you’d understand why.

I was living an incredibly wild life in my 30s. I had become a very well-known performer in San Francisco when I was in my 20s and then, in 1993, I became well-known around the world because I was the first openly gay comic to perform on television in America.

Back then I was traveling all over the fucking place performing constantly in front of lesbians in every country. Anywhere that people understood English, there I was being a very out, very in-your-face dyke and enjoying the insane life that came with that kind of intense touring.

Scott Thompson, from The Kids in the Hall, loves to tell a story about when he was staying with me at the Edinburgh Festival in 1993. He came downstairs to the bedroom I was staying in and said, “Lea, there’s someone here for you at the door,” and I said, “Oh yeah, that’s Nicki, I’ve got a date with her tonight.” And he goes, “Yes, well, remember the girl you fucked last night? She’s here too! It’s like a French farce!” Scott loves that story — the fact that there were these two women in my living room waiting for me really summed up my life at that time.

So I was shocked that I made it to 40. And then once I hit 40, I became a leading lady on Broadway and I assumed my demise would come at the hands of some jealous chorus girl. I always think I’m never going to make it through whatever decade I’m in, but here I am at 60 and absolutely fucking no one believes I’m this old. I have been blessed with amazing genes because looking this young has absolutely nothing to do with taking care of myself, I assure you!

Since I’ve been moderately famous since I was 22 — essentially my entire adult life — I’m never quite sure how to respond when someone asks me, “How is getting older different when you’re famous?” I guess they’re usually referring to the ultra fame that I have achieved thanks to “Orange Is The New Black.”

Because of that fame, I think everything in my life is more scrutinized and, in some ways, I’m always under the microscope, but part of me doesn’t give a fuck — for certain there will never be any fucks given! That’s why I get my crowds to chant, “Fuck Trump!” This is who I am and I’m not going to tame my radical dyke image and personality just because I’m getting older. That’s just not going to happen. But the flip side of that is, now that I’m older, I also pick and choose my battles more carefully.

When I was younger, I was full of a lot of rage — and rightfully so. The world was a very different place 40 years ago — especially for someone who looked like me. I mean, they have clubs for gay people in high school now! You know what the club for lesbians at my high school was called? PE. Because I was filled with so much rage and the hubris of youth, I wasted a lot of time preaching feminism to straight boys that didn’t give a fuck. I refuse to do that now. I’ve learned to be smarter with my time and energy. So you’re not going to find me going to a KKK rally and talking about gay rights with those assholes, but if they come at me, I’m going to have a lot to say to them.

It’s obviously much harder to get older as a woman — famous or not — because our society doesn’t allow women to grow old gracefully. That’s just part of living in a heterosexist society. Men are always allowed to become “an older gentleman.” If I’m considered the lesbian Jack Nicholson — which we all know I am — and I go out with a younger woman, people tend to let that slide. But if I was a straight woman and I went out with a younger man, they’d make a note of that, wouldn’t they? Men can go out with young women and nobody ever says a fucking thing about it. They write parts for older men. They don’t write parts for older women.

Even in this supposed “Year of the Woman,” during pilot season I saw a lot of things that have been written for women, but it’s always the same kind of role. There were a few roles for older women too, but when people in the industry talk about championing diversity, there’s still such a narrow definition of what is considered acceptable. The casting directors and producers and executives still only want thin, beautiful women. For all of the talk about how “Orange Is The New Black” changed television by offering diversity and showing the different kinds of women that exist in the world, it’s still business as usual in Hollywood.

That being said, in my personal life, it could not be a better time for me to be an older butch dyke. Now the whole “daddy” thing is really big with dykes. It’s always been a part of gay male culture but not so much in lesbian culture. But now, all the younger women are really into getting with an older butch — a daddy, basically. And honey, I am the personification of a daddy! [Laughs] I’ve always been into younger women — just look at the women I’ve dated. It’s mostly because I’m deeply immature. I’m a 16-year-old boy in a suit — that’s who I am. That’s also one of the reasons that I think younger women are attracted to me. Women my own age have very little patience for me. [Laughs]

Sex hasn’t changed for me at all. In fact, my ex-fiancée, Chelsea Fairless — we’re keeping the age-old lesbian tradition of remaining incredibly close after breaking up — said, “I think you should fuck every woman in the world because every woman in the world should have that experience at least once.” [Laughs] It was an amazing compliment. Chelsea is 26 years younger than me and not only was I keeping up with her — I was running her ragged!

I’m still incredibly active sexually and I’ve never really been monogamous — ever. In my 20s, my girlfriends always thought I was monogamous, but I wasn’t! [Laughs] I’ve always been that person. When I came out, feminism was a big part of being a lesbian and we were all lesbian feminists and feminists believe that monogamy is a tool that the patriarchy uses to enslave women. So, in order to be a good feminist, you had to fuck as many women as you could — and I was a pretty great feminist! [Laughs] I’m still out there banging away.

My comedy hasn’t changed either — because I staunchly refuse to change it. My work has always been observational and personal and political. As a result of approaching my comedy in this way, I can always talk about what’s currently going on in my life — like going through menopause, for example. To me, that’s so fucking political because nobody talks about menopause. Nobody! There are so many things about menopause — even as a feminist — that I had no fucking clue about! The way I approach that on stage is like “let me be the one to tell you this shit because apparently nobody else will.” All anyone ever talks about is how you’re going to be bitchy! So it’s funny and it’s observational and it’s from that political feminist perspective that says we need to be in control of our own bodies.

If you see me on stage at any point — whether I’m giving a concert, whether I’m speaking at a university, or whether it’s purely stand-up — you’re going to be hearing me use “fuck” as a noun, a verb and a gerund in every sentence just like I always have and you’re going to hear me screaming at the current presidential administration. That’s been my take on stand-up comedy since I started doing it when I was just 22 years old. I could never waste my time talking about something stupid like losing my fucking socks in the dryer and I can’t imagine that ever changing.

Still, getting older has meant that I’ve had to do some things differently. I love when people say “middle age” — this is not middle age. I’m in the twilight of my life, so I have to consider the things that people do at this age. And as great as my genes are, I have had some physical issues. I just had my left knee replaced four months ago. I contracted diabetes three years ago and everything related to my food intake and exercising has changed for me since then. I’ve lost almost 60 pounds because of it.

But I still stay out until 4 o’clock in the morning. I can still dance all night. That’s why the title of my concert is “This Is What 60 Looks Like, Bitches!” I think in a lot of ways — and it’s not just me, it’s everywhere — the way our culture thinks about aging is significantly different now than how it used to be. People used to think of 60 as very old. I don’t think people think that way about 60 anymore. Maybe very young people do? So I have to accept that I have to take certain medication and I need a certain amount of exercise a day — especially with my knee — but I’m still going out every night and I’m still enjoying my life. I still have that joie de vivre that I’ve always had and hopefully nothing will slow that down. I’m planning on being George Burns and living well into my 100s, all the while surrounded by gorgeous women.

Until then, I intend to commemorate every milestone I reach. I’ve always been crazy about my birthday and I celebrate it for an entire week like Hanukkah. Every day I do something different and then the week culminates with the big day and cake and everything else the best birthday party you can imagine would have. I will go out all night long, I will party with my friends, I will tell everyone I meet that it’s my birthday all day long every second of the day.

I remember when I was in the Broadway revival of “The Rocky Horror Show” and the whole cast went out every night of my birthday week. At the time, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, who is my best friend and who is joining me on stage next month for my birthday show, came out with me every single night. I’m 20 years older than him — I was in my 40s and he was in his 20s ― and he was like, “How can you do this?!” He was dying. He was just dying. So on the seventh day, at 4 o’clock in the morning, I said, “I’m having so much fun, I think I’m going to have a birthday fortnight!” And Jesse stood up and said, “I’m out! I have to get some sleep! You’re doing the second week without me!” [Laughs]

But I’ve never been worried about getting enough sleep and even though I’m approaching my last chapter, so to speak, I’m definitely not worrying about dying — at all. Every day I get closer to death and I accepted that a long time ago. I think part of that was because I came of age during the AIDS crisis. I’ve seen so much death because of it and I literally have no clue how many of my friends died from the disease. I stopped counting at 86. I was there fighting. I sang at Bobbi Campbell’s memorial. This is what we dealt with. I’ve been looking death in the face my whole life — my whole life.

Living through that time taught me to live every moment. “Now is the time” is my motto. That means to be present. Be aware. Listen. Listening is a really important tool that most of us do not use. It’s probably the most important tool that we need to survive. Listen. Be present. Believe in yourself. Love yourself. Give no fucks. Then go. That’s what I think I know now. These are the things that I learned from living through that time. Oh, and take every chance you get to celebrate your life, whether it’s your birthday — or birthday week — or just a regular Tuesday.

Lea DeLaria’s birthday show, “This Is What 60 Looks Like, Bitches!” will take place on May 23, 2018, at Sony Hall in New York City. For ticket information, head here. For more from DeLaria, including other upcoming appearances, visit her official website and follow her on Twitter and Instagram. 

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Full, ultra-plumped lips are one beauty trend that just won’t quit.

Influencers like Kylie Jenner and the rest of her famous family have helped to make the use of facial fillers increasingly common. The more we’re bombarded with photos of perfectly plumped pouts on social media, the more we wonder: Is there such a thing as too much? If so, what does that mean? 

Enter “filler fatigue,” a buzzy beauty term to describe what happens when someone has had too much filler. Essentially, over time, filler stretches and weighs down the skin, which means you need more filler with each trip to the doctor, which will just stretch the skin and tissue even more. 

Over extended periods of time, fillers can actually stretch out the tissues under the skin, essentially accelerating the aging process “because those tissues aren’t going to bounce back the same way as you get older,” Park Avenue facial plastic surgeon Andrew Jacono explained to HuffPost. 

New York-based cosmetic facial plastic surgeon Michelle Yagoda told HuffPost that once the filler is gone (whether absorbed back into the body or dissolved by a doctor), it leaves behind an enlarged space that requires more filler over time to stay inflated. 

“Each time you put more filler in, the pocket expands more and it becomes a bigger pocket, so it needs more and more filler to keep it expanded,” Yagoda explained.  

When it comes to lips, if you don’t add more filler to inflate the space, you can be left with droopy, wrinkly or even misshapen lips that may require surgery to correct, Yagoda noted. 

“After the skin has been stretched out, it’s like a tummy tuck when a woman’s had a baby and her skin hangs,” Jacono said. “When you [get rid] of that big lip, it’s like [after] giving birth. You dissolve away the filler and there’s all this extra skin and I have to cut it away. It’s a pretty big procedure and takes about two weeks to recover.” 

Fillers can also migrate once they’ve been injected, and you could end up with a top lip that looks like what Yagoda described as “two saggy boobs,” in which the sides of the lips hang down. 

Yagoda said that she doesn’t use injections in the pink part of the lips, as she considers it a dangerous area. She will, however, inject where the pink part of the lip meets the skin. 

“I think it’s a big mistake to inject into the pink part of the lip because the lip is a muscle, and the filler gets moved around and can clump and lump and deform the lip and will pretty much require a surgery to get rid of it if you do it more than once or twice,” she said. 

Both Yagoda and Jacono noted that “filler fatigue” also commonly happens when people use too much filler in their cheek areas. 

“Filler in the cheek is great for someone who has a flat midface or somebody who doesn’t have very significant cheekbones,” Yagoda said, adding that putting filler in someone whose cheekbones are already defined pretty much just stretches out the underlying tissues.

Eventually, she said, the pocket becomes so expanded that “the volume of filler necessary to hold up and inflate that pocket becomes so much that it tips the balance of the face so that you have a very large cheek area and by comparison, the chin area and jawline look small.” 

If that happens, she said, some people will then have filler injected into the bottom half of their face in an attempt to balance everything out. However, that can leave the face looking “almost like a puffed-up bobblehead,” Yagoda said, adding that the normal contours of the face become lost. 

Just as fillers can move when they’re injected into the lips, they can also gravitate when injected into the cheeks and weigh the face down. 

“What people try to do, because they don’t get the same effect from one or two vials of filler, is that they try to fill the face so that the sagging is lifted, but then the face looks wider,” Jacono said, adding that people may start to look “distorted.”

“When the fillers go in, they don’t really support the face, they weigh the face down,” he said. “[People] start to look a little bit simian or monkey-like, because there’s too much filler that gravitates toward the mouth … it kind of droops down from the upper part of the cheek.”  

While fillers may be a great option for some people, they may not be the best for others. More importantly, fillers will not stop the body from aging. 

“Putting too much filler in the face to try and make up for the aging process, which tends to happen, starts to make people not look like themselves anymore,” Jacono said. “I see patients who have been doing fillers for five to 10 years and they’re coming to me for a solution, because they’ve already done all the injectables and lots of lasers, and now they’ve spent tens of thousands of dollars and the effects of the treatments aren’t working for them anymore.” 

As Yagoda said, “Filler is not the answer to everything.”

“As you continue to age and depending on your genetics, you may be predisposed to loose skin and areas where there’s a lot of hanging. And it is not true, even though it’s a perpetuated myth that filler in the cheek can lift skin at the lower part of the face. It’s just not possible.”

If someone is trying to reverse the effects of too much filler, there are treatments available, both surgical and nonsurgical. For example, there is an injectable enzyme called hyaluronidase, which can dissolve hyaluronic fillers like Restylane or Juvederm. There are also minimally invasive treatments like ThermiTight and Ultherapy that work to tighten the skin.

But sometimes, as Yagoda noted, surgery is the right way to go. 

Both doctors agreed that the length of time someone can use filler and see the results they want is different for each patient. 

The younger you are, the firmer and more elastic the skin generally is, Yagoda noted, which means you may be able to use filler a little longer. But for someone in their 40s or 50s, the “sweet spot,” she said, is probably around three to five years. 

According to Jacono, some people may even be able to get eight to 10 years out of fillers on a case-by-case basis, but he noted that no matter what, you’ll be stretching the tissues.

“There’s no way to get around it,” he said. “And you have to be careful. Because if you push it too far, you’re stretching them way too much, you’re almost guaranteeing yourself a more invasive treatment at a younger age.”

If you’re looking to get fillers, especially in the lips or cheeks, Yagoda suggested reading up on the various types of fillers out there to educate yourself and recommended getting different opinions from doctors.

“It’s important,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to make decisions without being as educated as I could be.”

We are living in a time where inclusivity is king. Attitudes toward aging are changing, and self-expression comes in many forms ― including electively going gray.

And yet, our society continues to value youth and beauty. Ageism still exists, and no celebrity opting to dye their hair gray is going to change that. 

So if we’re going to celebrate gray hair, we ought to celebrate the women who earned it. And if you ask them, there’s a lot to celebrate. 

A call out from HuffPost for women to talk about their gray hair generated hundreds of responses with a common theme ― a love and acceptance for going gray. 

In spite of that, many women, like the ones we spoke to for this story, have a complicated relationship with graying and the aging process in general. Some have fully embraced their hue, while others still lean on hair dye to cover it up. Read these 10 real stories below from women who started going gray as early as 16.

Age ain’t nothing but a number, especially when it comes to having truly satisfying sex. 

According to Match.com’s annual Singles in America report, it’s not Tinder- and Grindr-using millennials who are having the best sex of their lives. It’s their parents: On average, single women reported having their best sex at age 66. For single men, the sweet spot was 64.

The findings, based on a survey of 5,000 singles of all ages, ethnicities, and income levels across the U.S, come as no surprise to sex therapists. Sex tends to improve once you’ve learned that your sex appeal isn’t based entirely on your physical appearance. Unfortunately, that’s a lesson that takes most people years to learn, said Vanessa Marin, a sex therapist and the creator of Finishing School, an online orgasm course for women.

“With my clients in their 20s and 30s, self-consciousness is a huge factor in why they aren’t able to enjoy sex: Younger people are too in their heads about what their bodies look like, how they’re performing and what their partner is thinking. Eventually, that wears off,” Marin told HuffPost. “Even between the 20s and the 30s, there’s already a significant decrease in self-consciousness.”

The survey finding is a welcome counterpoint to commonly held beliefs about sex in our 50s and beyond. Why do we worry it’s all downhill once we hit a certain age?

In part, it’s because our bodies do change as we age, and as a result, so does sex, said Celeste Hirschman, a sex therapist who co-authored the book Making Love Real: The Intelligent Couple’s Guide to Lasting Intimacy and Passion with her business partner Danielle Harel.

Come mid-life, our bodies may not be as taut as they once were. Sex itself may be full of new challenges: Women may grapple with pain or dryness brought on by menopause, and many older men have problems with premature ejaculation and erectile dysfunction. 

Still, there are workarounds that, in many cases, make sex just as enjoyable, if not more than, it was before, Hirschman said. 

“Yes, some kinds of sex become more difficult, but the plus is that these changes generally make communication and creativity much more essential,” Hirschman said. “When we’re young, sex is often a swift race to penetrative sex without much foreplay or fantasy added in. When penetrative sex is less of a goal, people can become more creative and sex can actually get a lot better.”

Realizing that an orgasm and penetration isn’t the be-all-end-all-of sex can be a game changer, regardless of age. In fact, Hirschman said a client once boasted that the best sex she’d ever had was with a partner with erectile dysfunction.

“They were together for a year and she said she had the best orgasms of her life, and he had great ones, too, just not from penetration.”

Another reason post-50 sex may be so fulfilling? The older you get, the less compelled you feel to put up with rigid sexual expectations and roles, said Kimberly Resnick Anderson, a sex therapist in Los Angeles.

That’s especially true of older women, many of whom spent their 20s and 30s searching for a partner to start a family with some day.

“That search often shapes what women in their 20s and 30s are willing to do and tolerate with their partners,” Resnick Anderson said. “As women age, they become more selfish, in a good way: No more worries about getting pregnant, no more worries about their kids barging in on them. Plus, many have an increased comfort with their bodies and a healthy sense of entitlement to sexual satisfaction.”

As Resnick Anderson explained, post-50 women (and men) are finally “taking ownership of their sexuality” and reaping the benefits. More modern and progressive views about sex allow women to celebrate their sexuality in a way that they couldn’t 30 or 40 years ago, the therapist added, pointing to one of her clients as an example. 

“After 40 years of faking orgasms, a 63-year-old client of mine actually got to know her body and what genuinely felt good to her,” Resnick Anderson said. “Sex at 65 or 70 can feel carefree and easy because it’s more about pleasure and connection and less about performance and ‘selling yourself.’”

Younger people would be wise to adopt the same sexual confidence, Hirshman added. 

“As a sex therapist, I hope people start to get to know themselves sexually at a younger age and feel comfortable asking for what they want from their partners,” Hirshman said. “Lowering shame and judgement around sex will mean more people having great sex at every age!”

It buckles when I go up and down stairs, yelps loudly when I try to cross my legs, and jolts me awake from a deep sleep if I accidentally shift positions and bump it. The discomfort was enough for me to choose to spend my birthday in the company of the nice knee doctor.

Before my left knee started acting up, I spent a few weeks with my right thumb doing this weird snapping thing. Not really painful, more like a seriously major annoyance for someone who types for a living ― and yes, I still type for a living. And the snapping thumb came on the heels of my big toe joint aching in a way that WebMD was pretty sure could only be gout. It wasn’t. A few months before the non-gout episode, there was a flare-up of my plantar fasciitis ― a foot problem in which every step makes you wish you had a bullet stuffed in your mouth to bite. That one forced me to hang up my hiking boots until the prescription orthotics arrived. I may have proposed marriage to the physical therapist who saw me three times a week and rubbed my feet in all the right places. The man is gifted; I mean it.

So what does this all mean, all these aches and pains and weirdness affecting my body parts? It means that I am getting older. It also means that I might actually meet my medical plan’s deductible this year.

But mostly what it means is that if I want to avoid becoming someone who spends half her week seeing doctors and the other half waiting in line at the pharmacy, I need to get out in front of this. 

I understand that body parts wear out, and my superhero may be Bionic Woman, but that’s about as close as I’ll come to ever being one. I also know that pain is your body’s way of telling you something is wrong. But I’ve come around to believe that the key to successful aging rests in your ability to ignore the creaks in the floorboards.

If you run to the doctor for every twitch or tingle, you will spend (the rest of) your life there. Me? I’d rather keep company with folks less focused on growing old together and more into staying young together. 

So this is my plan: I’m going to will myself to rise above what hurts. I’m putting my mind over my matter. I won’t ignore serious pain ― nor am I suggesting that you do, either ― but I will raise the bar on what constitutes “serious.” 

My first line of defense will be my ice pack and my heating pad. I will continue to walk my dogs, hike my trails, and park the car in the spot farthest from the door to get my daily steps in. I will sing a song in my head to distract myself from any body parts that don’t feel like going along for the ride. I will take stairs, not elevators; I will stand, not sit; I will follow the “use it or lose it” rule whenever and for whatever possible.

It’s not greater longevity that I’m seeking. Frankly, I would rather die than live to be 100, which I suppose is actually what would happen. What I want, though, is to live as fully as I can for as long as I can. But when doing so requires a visit to the nice knee doctor who proclaims it is “time for surgery,” I may just reserve the right to take my ice pack and walk away singing “Have A Little Faith In Me”  on behalf of my knee. 

I go to bed at 10 and get up at 5; not the reverse. Seems like every time I visit the doctor he finds a potentially life-threatening disease—then tells me not to worry. I worry a lot more. When I do high-impact cardio my back achieves complete failure before I do. I’m at my happiest in bed, alone. I jest, of course: My dog takes up half the space. My biggest fear when flying is not crashing; it’s being seated next to the window without easy access to the bathroom.

When I look at my mother I often see someone else—me. I can’t remember what appointments I have this week, but they probably have something to do with that life-threatening disease. Please don’t ask me what I did yesterday: I panic under pressure. I’m furious when friends cancel last-minute, until I remember it means I don’t have to deal with the hassle of trains and figuring out what to wear and—Damn, Heather just soared past me on Words with Friends! My night has purpose.

I have friends who are getting sick, but this time it’s from illnesses I’d heard about growing up. Unless it’s free I have no patience for crowds or bad seats—sorry, Barbra. Binge-watching is the new binge-drinking, and unless you mean “Popcorn and Pixar” I don’t PNP. I’m still attracted to older men, except that most of them are now younger than I am. I’ve seen more dicks on my phone than I have in real life.

I shave my back as often as I shave my beard, but at least I don’t have much gray hair. What there is I refer to as the “silver lining.” I’ve learned that “You have a lovely shaped head” is meant as a compliment. And that only thick-haired people say it. And that I’m sure they have grotesque-shaped heads. I like muffins and tops but not my muffin top. My favorite foods are fattening; so are my least favorite. I don’t care if you’re the cutest go-go boy on the planet; if you don’t know who the Go-Go’s are I just can’t even.

Even though I don’t have children, I can be a Daddy, a DILF, or, if I gain ten pounds, a Dad Bod example. And that if I stopped working out to actually raise kids, something different altogether: Discarded. I’ve learned that we never learn, and that accepting this is unacceptable.

When I run into longtime neighbors on the street, we discuss arthritis, pinched nerves, hip problems, food allergies, skin rashes, cataracts, and which remedies work best. And we are referring to our pets. No matter how simple the instructions, I will always return from the store with the wrong item. Would it have killed you to use FreshDirect? I don’t care if you’re the cutest go-go boy on the planet; if you make me wrap it up first, it’s probably not going to wake up before I go-go.

I’ve learned that the people who make restaurant menus are in cahoots with the eyeglass people…and are Nazis. When I go on a date, I’m now judged, not on my looks and personality, but on my ability to fit in with their furniture, which has an enormously large collection of brand-name baggage. And that traveling isn’t the only time men search for an upgrade.

I no longer max-out my credit cards but one trip to TJ Maxx means I might have to cut my closet space in half. I can no longer bear to lie in the sun and I survive winter about as well as the night watch. I’ve learned that our country has hit bottom so many times it’s like two-for-one night at the Eagle. And that I’ll never learn to take it. I’ve learned that my political views have changed a lot of people’s minds. And that I still have a sense of humor.

I’ve learned that friends come and go, lovers come and go, family comes and (hopefully) goes home, but the planet just goes. And that sadness is in the bloodstream.

Oh, one more thing: I’ve learned that, despite the above, I’m a fuck of a lot happier at 53 than I was at 23. Membership has its privileges.

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David Toussaint writes about subjects affecting older gay men. If you’ve got a “Daddy Issue,” let him know. –-DRT