I am not old.

When I think of old, I picture a rotting orange with fuzzy green mold, slowly collapsing into something inedible—and possibly poisonous.

I am decidedly not that.

I’m declaring myself a Wabi Sabi Queenager.

What’s Wabi Sabi?

Wabi Sabi is an ancient Japanese aesthetic that honors everything weathered, worn, imperfect, and impermanent. It celebrates the beauty of the crack, the fray, the wrinkle, the flaw.

Imagine you own a priceless Ming vase with a huge, crooked crack. You might toss it.

A Japanese museum would place it on a pedestal, shine a spotlight on the crack, and maybe even fill it with 24-karat gold.

That’s Wabi Sabi.

It teaches us to stop fighting our imperfections and instead find the beauty in them. At my age, it’s about turning lemons into lemonade…
with a dash of Metamucil.

And a Queenager?

A Queenager is a woman in midlife or beyond who lives as freely as she did as a teenager—except now she has a driver’s license, a credit card, and no curfew.

I turn 73 in a week.

And what of it?

Yes, society may label me “old.” But inside I feel vibrant, curious, deeply alive—just occasionally slower and definitely more dessert-friendly.

Here’s the truth:
I have a variety of medical issues. Thankfully, most are covered by Medicare. Taking a dozen pills a day is surprisingly manageable—and they do an excellent job of keeping me upright and participating in life.

And honestly?
I’ve never felt healthier, happier, or more satisfied with my life.

I have a loving partner. Fabulous nieces, nephews, and godchildren. Two incredible cats who believe they are royalty. Projects that matter to me. Curiosity that hasn’t dimmed. And a sense of inner peace that younger me was desperately chasing.

The Unexpected Gifts of Aging

One of the great surprises of aging is the upside of an unreliable memory.

Recently, after a party, my husband said,
“You seemed to enjoy talking to Nancy. I thought you didn’t like her.”

I replied,
“I couldn’t remember why, so I just enjoyed her.”

To this day, I have no idea what my original complaint was.

The same thing happened with a relative I’d been mad at for years. When he called out of the blue, I realized I had literally forgotten the grievance.

So, I let it go.

Holding grudges is hard when you can’t remember what you’re mad about.

Accidental Culinary Genius

One night, I preheated the oven to warm up leftover pasta, grabbed what I thought was the right container, and slid it in.

Thirty minutes later, I realized I had baked the Italian chopped salad—lettuce, mozzarella, salami, the whole thing.

My first thought:
OMG. I killed the salad.

Then I tasted it.

It was… delicious.

Wabi Sabi Salad.
Instant classic.

Playing the Age Card

Aging also gives you full permission to play the Age Card—with zero guilt.

I don’t like driving at night?
My younger friends chauffeur me.

Selective hearing?
Incredibly convenient.

Customer service suggests I download an app?
I smile sweetly and say,
“I’m in my 70s and can’t read tiny instructions on an app.”

They usually handle everything for me.

Perfection Is Pure Fiction

We’ve been brainwashed into chasing perfection—a fantasy that keeps us anxious, striving, and subtly miserable.

I’ve decided perfection actually stands for Pure Fiction.

Which brings me to my secret weapon: my Wabi Sabi rose-colored glasses.

A university study found that people who consciously choose to “look for what’s right” live longer, happier lives. So, when I feel irritated—with myself or someone else—I put on my Wabi Sabi glasses and choose enjoyment over annoyance.

It’s a practice. And it works.

The Happiness U-Curve

Science now confirms what many Queenagers already know: we actually get happier as we age.

For most people, the low point is around age 46—peak stress from careers, kids, aging parents, and unmet expectations.

But once we slide into our 50s and beyond, happiness rises—and keeps rising.

Why?

Because we gain emotional equanimity.
Compassion.
Gratitude.
Freedom.
Courage.

We finally know what matters.
And we stop wasting precious time on what doesn’t.

Perfectly Imperfect Freedom

These days, I live with more ease and contentment than ever before. And on the rough days, I remember a line from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel:

“Everything will be alright in the end.
If it’s not alright, it is not yet the end.”

So, while I still cringe (and gently resist) labels like senior, elder, and crone, I’ve let my hair go gray, said no to plastic surgery and Botox, and chosen to savor these final chapters as a perfectly imperfect, wildly happy Wabi Sabi Queenager.

And yes—
I still love Zoom filters.

A girl has her secrets.

Here’s to shedding what doesn’t matter (and keeping what does),

Arielle

P.S. For more of me, see my YouTube channel.