I’m a Hundred and Thirty Years Old—Here’s What I Wish I’d Known When I Was a Hundred and Ten

When I was a hundred and ten years old, I thought I had it all figured out. In reality, I had no idea just how naïve I was. Now that I’ve hit the big one-thirty, I like to think that I’ve gained some perspective and hard-earned wisdom. Here are a few life lessons that I wish I knew back in the day. If there are any early hundredsomethings reading this—you’ll thank me later.

Stop giving a f*ck about what other people think. In my early hundredsomethings, I was completely preoccupied with how I was perceived by others. I would constantly fret over questions such as “Do my great-grandchildren actually like me?” and “Do their great-grandchildren actually like me?” Now I know that it truly doesn’t matter if your grandchildren like you or not—tune out the haters and just friggin’ do you.

Live in the moment. I spent so much of my early hundreds wishing that I could just fast-forward to being a hundred and thirty years old. To me, life didn’t really start until you were the oldest living person on the planet. News flash: your life is happening now. Be present and live in the moment—there will be plenty of time later to enjoy having your photo in the Guinness Book of Records under the title “Most Ancient by a Landslide.” I promise.

You’ll regret that tattoo. At the time, I thought that getting “I’VE EXPERIENCED EIGHTEEN PRESIDENTIAL ADMINISTRATIONS” inked on my neck was a great idea. Now that I’ve lived through five additional Presidential Administrations, it just feels stupid.

I shouldn’t have had sex with the Wright Brothers. Sleeping around can be fun and empowering when you’re young, and, in my early hundreds, I looked back on my whirlwind sex marathons with Orville and Wilbur fondly. Now that I’m a little older and wiser, though, I realize that sex is more meaningful when it’s with someone you love rather than someone who invented a flying machine.

Take care of your body. When you’re a hundred and ten years old, you feel invincible. You don’t think twice about that second margarita, or attempting a backside one-eighty-degree nosegrind down the suicide stairs at Crack Park. But trust me, once you hit your mid-one-twenties, your body starts to feel every little three-sixty-shove-it into reverse Christ Air.

Wear sunscreen. When, at forty years old, I read in the newspaper that sunscreen had been invented, I dismissed it as just another New Age health hoax, like germ theory or the Y.M.C.A. Eventually, I went to see a dermatologist, who explained to me that I should have put sunscreen on at some point in the past hundred years. After examining my skin, that dermatologist quit her job and changed religions.

I saw the first-ever baseball game. Everyone played in their pajamas and the umpire was a child in a top hat.

Don’t save your money—invest it. Around my hundred-and-twelfth birthday, I was approached by a spry young man named Bill Gates, who asked me to invest in his new computer company, Microsoft. I publicly shunned the man and told him that computers would go down in history as “Bill’s Folly.” I didn’t realize at the time that, eventually, humans would be able to use computers to play Minesweeper. I should have invested in Microsoft, probably.

Learn to let go of the past. Harboring a grudge might feel good at the time, but it doesn’t help us heal from the situations in which we’ve been hurt. The best way to heal is to learn from our experiences, and to use those lessons to focus on forward momentum, progress, and, ultimately, growth. Two things that I am older than are shaving cream and the state of Oklahoma.

You don’t have to have everything figured out. Society loves to perpetuate the false notion that you should know what to do with your life by the time you’ve lived a hundred years and then an additional ten years. Take a deep breath and relax—you’ve got plenty of time. ♦