Sumiko At 60: No, 60 is not the new 40

---

The first step to addressing the challenges of growing older is to confront my own negative attitudes about ageing.

 

When I turned 60 in December 2023, I crossed a line to the other side – the “old” side.

 

“Welcome to the club,” a colleague who’s two years older told me on my birthday, in a tone that seemed suspiciously sympathetic. 

 

Another friend at work had organised a surprise celebration at the end of a meeting.

 

She came into the room bearing a cake and a beautiful bouquet. The birthday song was sung and the cake was cut and shared. I was showered with birthday wishes.

 

“Sixty is a special birthday,” said my friend. “You must celebrate it.”

 

I was very grateful and touched by her kindness, but, inside, I was squirming. 

 

You see, I was embarrassed by my age.

 

I had long regarded myself as one of those brave women who didn’t mind revealing how old they were. But that changed as I headed towards 60. 

 

Hitting 60 felt like a series of doors were closing on me.

 

I could no longer fool myself that I was still on the right side of middle age, which I could when I was 59 and got away with describing myself as “in my 50s”.

 

(To younger readers: There will come a time when being in your 50s will feel positively youthful; just as I’m sure an 80-year-old reading this will tell me 60 is young.)

 

At work, the last embers of ambition dimmed and died in me. It would be delusional to seek higher office now that I had entered my seventh decade. My promotion prospects were finished.

 

Retirement loomed instead, which brought fresh worries. Mainly, I could no longer kid myself that time was on my side to build a bigger nest egg.

 

Physically, I decided that 60 was as good an age as any to accept that the pains I woke up with every morning were here to stay. A good night’s sleep no longer had the magic power to banish them.

 

In darker moments, it struck me that I could no longer take for granted that life’s pleasures would stretch boundlessly, gloriously, ahead. 

 

Holidays abroad, new dogs to love, restaurants to try, the Olympics, World Cup, new MRT lines and stations. Time was running out on how many more new experiences I could enjoy.

 

Take cars, for instance.

 

I enjoy driving and, at most, could look forward to owning just one more car in my lifetime.

 

My calculation went like this: My current car is seven years old. If I were to change it next year, in its eighth year while I can still get a decent trade-in sum before it hits its 10-year certificate of entitlement (COE) limit, I should be the owner of a new car with a new COE at age 61. I’d use that for eight years, by which time I’ll be 69. 

 

The likelihood of another car after that is slim.

 

My eyesight is already deteriorating, and I wonder if I’ll be fit to drive at that age.

 

A new car at 69 also assumes I’ll live out my 60s and 70s.

 

While the current life expectancy of a 60-year-old female in Singapore is about 27 years – I should expect to live till 87 – I could be struck dead by ailment or accident sooner, perhaps even later today or tomorrow?

 

More practically, would I be able to afford another car? A new Toyota Corolla Altis costs about $160,000 today and prices will rise. How will the retired 70-year-old me be able to cough up a six-figure sum? Would I have to make the mental switch and give up on cars after a lifetime of independence and driving?

 

Even if I had wanted to ignore the milestone of turning 60, I couldn’t. 

 

Some weeks after my birthday, a Passion “Silver” card arrived in the mail. It entitles citizens aged 60 and above to more discounts than the ordinary Passion card, a perks card issued by the People’s Association. 

 

I slid the card deep into the sleeve of my wallet, its silver side facing down. I didn’t want to be reminded of my age.

 

Age-old problem

 

There is no universal definition of when “old age” begins.

 

Most societies link it to retirement or the age when one qualifies for pension benefits, and in many developed countries that would be around 65.

 

Singapore’s retirement age is 63 and its re-employment age is 68. These will be raised to 64 and 69, respectively, in 2026, and 65 and 70 by 2030.

 

Central Provident Fund Life annuity payments start at 65, and most government schemes for the elderly start at that age.

 

Some companies give senior citizen discounts to customers from the age of 55, though 60 is the more common starting point.

 

Singapore’s Department of Statistics applies the term “elderly” to those 65 and over, with these sub-categories:

 

• Young-Old: 65–74 years
• Medium-Old: 75–84 years
• Oldest-Old: 85 years and over

 

Based on this, 60 isn’t officially “elderly” yet, but there’s no escaping how my body is past its prime.

 

Studies on how the human body ages make for depressing reading, but I don’t need scientists to tell me what I see in myself every day.

 

A 2020 study of more than 24,000 chess games played in tournaments found that cognitive performance rises sharply until one’s early 20s, then plateaus, with a peak around 35. Thereafter, there’s sustained decline, especially from the age of 45.

 

Athletic performance reaches its peak from 20 to 30 years, depending on the sport. There’s ample evidence of this in the Olympic Games.

 

Sexually, a male’s testosterone level hits a high at age 18, slowly declining after that. A female’s fertility goes downhill from her late 20s, although her sex drive remains strong up to her 30s.

 

As for appearances, a 2023 study using artificial intelligence to age a person’s face found that females were considered significantly less attractive and less feminine per decade, with the greatest drop over the age of 40.

 

Male attractiveness and masculinity were more or less preserved until 50, when attractiveness scores became significantly lower.

 

Is it any wonder that ageing is feared, and even loathed?

 

You see it in how we talk about waging a “war” against ageing, and dismissive language such as “old fogey”, “old-timer”, “dinosaur” and “ancient”. 

 

You see it in how ageing is categorised as a social problem that needs to be solved. Almost one in four Singaporeans will be over the age of 65 by 2030, we are constantly reminded, as if it’s an impending catastrophe.

 

(What is less often said is how seniors are staying healthier longer and have considerable purchasing power. In fact, the longer they stay in the workforce, the more tax revenues they will generate. Let’s not forget, too, the armies of grandparents who provide unpaid childcare so that parents can work.)

 

You see it in stereotypes about the elderly as a group that talks too much, nags, is long-winded, absent-minded, forgetful, smelly, resistant to change, incompetent, grumpy, overly sensitive, technologically inept, out of touch and sexless.

 

But everyone grows old. There is no escaping it (unless you are unlucky).

 

Being prejudiced against the elderly is in fact “prejudice against our feared future self”, as American psychologist Todd D. Nelson put it.

 

It’s not just the young who have ageist views. Older people, too, harbour ageist attitudes, and not just towards other older people, but also towards their ageing selves. 

 

We lie about our age, we hate our sagging bodies, we make statements like “I’m embarrassed to be 60”, “it’s too late for me to change careers”, “I’m not like those old people”, “I’m too old for this”. Or we swing to the other side and delude ourselves.

 

We declare that “60 is the new 40”. No, it is not. Sixty is 60, and if you are feeling and looking great at 60, why can’t this also be what 60 is like?

 

Eight months into 60, and more reconciled with it, I have concluded that fearing something you can’t change is pointless.

 

Instead of fighting, avoiding or denying that I’m ageing, it’s easier to own it. Confront it head-on and then find ways to cope.

 

This column won’t gloss over the hard realities of growing old. It’s not rosy.

 

But rather than lament these negatives, it will find ways we can make peace with ourselves.

 

When I see the many happy, active and inspiring examples of older people around, I tell myself that surely the future will also offer fulfilling opportunities for me? This, I hope to share so that you, too, can find your way.

 

As it’s been said, growing old isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative. 

 

What was it like turning 60 for you? Share your views by e-mailing stsixty@sph.com.sg

 

 

Source: The Straits Times © SPH Media Limited. Reproduced with permission.

 

 

---

ALL views, content, information and/or materials expressed / presented by any third party apart from Council For Third Age, belong strictly to such third party. Any such third party views, content, information and/or materials provided herein are for convenience and/or general information purposes only. Council For Third Age shall not be responsible nor liable for any injury, loss or damage whatsoever arising directly or indirectly howsoever in connection with or as a result of any person accessing or acting on any such views, content, information and/or materials. Such third party views, content, information and/or materials do not imply and shall not be construed as a representation, warranty, endorsement and/or verification by Council For Third Age in respect of such views, content, information and/or materials.