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Getting Past What Holds You Back with Baby Boomer Weight Loss Expert Scott 'Q' Marcus

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In Celebration of Old

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There’s an app making the rounds that analyzes selfies and projects how you will appear when you’re “old.”

It’s apparently all the thing because my social media feed is unexpectedly cluttered with images of millennials sporting crow’s feet, gray hair, and age spots. (My son sent an image of him at what I assume is my age. For some unexplained reason, he looked more like Richard Dreyfus than me. Maybe something I need to know?)

I would like to believe that this sudden fascination with aging is a positive sign that we’re embracing the inevitable, and finally celebrating the wisdom, history, and knowledge in our seniors. After all, we’ve been obsessed with youth and beauty since Adam insecurely asked Eve if his hairline was receding. Yet, I don’t think that’s the case; sadly, it’s more likely another passing fad such as ice bucket challenges, latex wristbands, or man buns.

Yet, this serves as an excellent jump-off point to remember that — especially in an aging society — there’s are larger issues at hand:

How do we prepare for our inevitable outcomes? Is there a way to change our collective view of the aging process into one of acceptance and wonder of the life cycle and — dare I say it — welcome embrace of the gift of being old? Can we remember that “beauty” is not age-specific and does not evaporate as the calendar moves onward? Can we acknowledge that that not all beautiful bodies wear bikinis and sport six-pack abs?

Recently I staggered across a video from a female internet influencer replying to a “troll” who scolded her for appearing “old” because she was unwilling to dye her hair. Apparently, this miscreant said the influencer should “take better care of herself.” Came the reply: “First of all — it’s no one’s business but mine whether I choose to color my hair.” (Bravo!) She then went on to reveal that she suffered from an incurable disease and would not make it past her sixties; she would never have the opportunity to become “old.” Summing it up, she reminded us, “Old age is a gift many of us will not receive.”

No one likes the idea of dying.

Focusing on that inevitable outcome is terrifying; we need a hard-wearing shield of denial simply to make it through the day. Yet, to that end, desperately attempting to avoid the truth, we also overlook the richness of aging, wasting our today’s lamenting yesterdays we’ll never recover, while worrying about tomorrows we all know we’ll have.

With the passing of years come gifts, unavailable to those with smooth skin and full heads of hair:

[Read more…]

Personal Confession

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Since I started writing these columns oh so long ago, I’ve had several objectives.

First, I wanted them to be of value to you; I didn’t want to vomit a bunch of words on a page assuming that merely because it’s in print, it’s worth your time. That’s delusional and ego-centric; I wish to be neither.

Next, I wanted them to inspire when needed and provide a laugh when possible.

Finally, and as important; they needed to be honest. In other words, I would be transparent, doing my best to be who I am really am so that the person you might meet on the street is the same guy you read in print. The way I look at, if shame was transformational, we’d all be soaring across the heavens. Take a look around, it doesn’t work.

Putting all that on the table, I was reticent about this piece because it’s something with which I’ve wrestled for too long, keeping it in a dark, backroom closet. Will you think less of me if I expose this to the sun? Will you wag your finger, shake your head judgmentally, tsk loudly, and say, “I’m so ashamed of you”? Odd, isn’t it, how that perceived — not necessarily actual — reactions weigh so heavily?

Finally, I decided, “Screw it. If that’s the way you’re going to be, there’s nothing I can do about it. Stick to my truth. After all, as the song says, ‘if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.’”

So, here goes.

I haven’t had anything with alcohol in it for a month.

There, I’ve said it. It’s in the world; no taking it back now. [Read more…]

I forgot what I was going to write about…

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Memory is odd.

In a way, it’s kind of funny when you hear about people “losing” their glasses, only to realize that they’ve been wearing them all along. “Chuckle, chuckle, yeah, I’ve been there.”

It’s not as funny when you get to a certain age and it starts happening to you.

Alas, I am of such age. Lately, I’m finding myself more scatterbrained. Words don’t come to mind as quickly; I feel like my hard drive is buffering all the time. That’s annoying for anyone, but when you’re standing in front of a room full of people doing a presentation and you go blank, it’s embarrassing.

I find myself using the “find my phone” website more often than I post on social media.

Tablet in hand one moment, and the next second, it’s vanished like a snowflake in the Sahara. Not a trace, nowhere to be found. Rummaging through files, checking my backpack, inspecting bedding; I find squat; zilch, a big zero. Swearing like a drunken sailor, I pull up my computer and impatiently wait for the compass icon to stop swinging, eventually referencing that the tablet is here in my house.

“Where? I’ve looked all over,” I mutter impatiently, as if the computer will patiently reply. Clicking the button, “play sound,” a sonar-like beep reverberates through my office. My treasure was laying on my desk, next to my hard drive, clear as day. As they say, “If it was a snake, it would have bit me.”

It’s not just my iPad; if I don’t put my keys or wallet in the exact same location each time I come home, I can count on the fact that I’ll be searching for hours tomorrow. Since I wear my glasses all the time, I don’t have to worry about losing them – but my wife handles that frustration from her end.

“Have you seen my glasses?” She’ll ask.

“No,” I reply, “But I bet they’re next to my iPad. Find that and you’ll find both.”

Worried about what this portended, I checked out an AARP article: “Warning Signs of Dementia.”

[Read more…]

Dealing with Loss

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A relative of mine died recently.

Aside from the sadness and sense of loss, death puts a mirror of our own mortality to our faces. As we age, learning to deal with the grim reaper becomes a bigger and bigger issue.

I have to admit, I don’t get – nor like – this “death thing,” so I seek denial that it could be me next.

I’m convinced he began that morning as he did so many others, yet that day ended so horribly different. Surely, there must have been a warning; a sign, giving him room to avoid the outcome. I look for understanding, a meaning, solace. I’m embarrassed to say I even blame him for not avoiding it; maybe he set himself up for it. Understand, I am trying to do something – anything – to avoid the reality that I, Scott Marcus, 62 years on planet Earth, writer, speaker, friend of many, father of two, lover of one, just might not have all the tomorrows I need either. We convince ourselves that there is always another sunrise over the horizon. Yet, as my grandmother said so many times, “Tomorrow never comes.”

When fear goes unchallenged, it becomes cement, weighing heavily on our souls; we hunch down our shoulders and grovel in whisper-like tones to the Universe. As Oliver Twist said, holding his now empty bowl of gruel, with a voice tiny and meek, “Please sir, more…” We hold out frail trembling hands and beg for more time, unsure we are deserving but wanting and needing it so desperately. I’ll be good. Please don’t take it away from me.

During however many revolutions around the Sun we have, we are essentially faced with one main choice: embrace love or cower in fright.

After all, we each begin and end this journey in the same fashion; traveling similar paths; ups, downs, lots of middles. How we view ourselves and that passage is what really makes the difference.

Yet it’s not easy to shut off the panic, and as much as I don’t like it, I guess it is okay to be frightened.

[Read more…]

No Regrets at End of Life

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If I ever lost my phone, I wouldn’t know what to do.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not one of those people who is glued to the glowing screen, constantly texting or hanging out on social media, unable to be still with my thoughts for a few moments. I quite literally would not know what to do. I enter my appointments, to-dos, and tasks in my phone’s apps. I even have a category for “dates to remember.”

It’s not just birthdays and anniversaries, but other dates that matter. For example, October 17, 1994 was the first time my (not yet) wife said she loved me. Every year, it shows up on my calendar as a reminder of what’s important to me. October 25, 2011 was the date I was almost killed in a car versus bike accident. I remind myself of that every 365 days to remind myself to be thankful. My youngest son moved to Portland October 8, 2009. I don’t know why I keep track of that, but it seems like an important date.

Not everything is in October. For example, May 6, 1984 is when my grandmother, Zlote Zelby passed on, approximately three months after my oldest son was born. She always wanted to be a great-grandmother and for those 117 final days in her life, she was; he being the only great-grandchild she ever met.

Zlote spent most of that time in the hospital, suffering from congestive heart failure; which eventually claimed her. I have one photograph of her in the hospital sitting in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube connected to her nose. Surrounding her stood my mother and my aunt, with me sitting next to her, holding my son on my lap. Four generations together for one brief moment, captured on film. Only my son and I are still around.

My grandmother was an incredibly strong woman, as a Russian immigrant, non-English speaking, widowed mother of three in the 1930s, she ran her own business. Yet as age took its toll, her later years were filled with regrets. The anniversary of her passing – as well as my own thoughts about aging – caused me to look at my own life, “Do I have any regrets?”

Sure, we all have regrets.

But, at least for me, I’m fortunate; thy are few. God-willing, I’ve still got time to deal with them.

On the website, “Collective Evolution,” I found an article, compiled by a palliative nurse who listed the Top Five Regrets at the end of life. Consider it a cautionary tale. The list follows, each starting with “I wish…” [Read more…]

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Scott "Q" Marcus 707 834.4090 scottq@thistimeimeanit.com

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