The Decade Nobody Warns You About (In a Good Way)
Your 70s might be less a graceful retreat and more an unexpected arrival.
Updated June 3, 2026 | Reviewed by Kaja Perina
When I turned 70 nearly five years ago, no one was more surprised than I. Not by the number, but by what came with it. I decided not to talk about what I’m about to say here until I was at least a few years into the decade so as not to have it all considered some kind of fluke.
My 60s were spent wondering whose DNA I inherited, since my mom left this world at age 69, having had health issues for several years before that. It was scary to hear myself say I was “in my 60s” at the time — like waiting for an unwelcome stranger to come over the crest of a hill. While that stranger never arrived, I kept my eyes open and my health checks current. Still, each time I got cleared of health issues, I heaved a sigh of relief. I still do.
Now for the part that genuinely shocked me. I've lost weight. I feel better in my skin now than I did at 60. I'm also a master of my own makeup tricks (I've always thought of that word as "making up" for what you don't have), more confident, more energized, and honestly more fun at parties. Which is disorienting, because I never got the memo that this could even come close to happening.
There exists a cultural script for your 70s, and it goes something like this: Slow down, simplify, make peace with things. Reasonable advice, no doubt. But what the script conveniently leaves out is the possibility that your 70s might be less a graceful retreat and more an unexpected arrival. As in: "Oh. Here I am. Finally.”
If you saw this coming, you must be some kind of 21st century Nostradamus. Because I’m still in a state of shock. Well-being tends to dip in midlife (those fun decades of maximum responsibility and minimum sleep), then rises again, often sharply, in our late 60s and 70s.
Specifically, we get better at editing. With fewer years stretching ahead than behind, something clicks. We stop spending energy on the performances nobody was watching anyway. The difference is that in your 60s, you're just figuring out you can stop performing. By your 70s? You've actually stopped. It's a meaningful distinction.
The physical part surprised me most. The conventional wisdom is that your body stages a slow rebellion starting somewhere around 50 and doesn't let up. While there are still negotiations to be had and DNA to be considered, I still look for anti-aging remedies that make sense.
What I've found, however (and what I hear from other women my age who aren't pretending otherwise) is that when you stop punishing yourself for not looking 40, something oddly useful happens. You start treating your body like something worth taking care of rather than something that keeps failing to meet those old height/weight chart specifications or looking like old photos of Kim Novak in a bathing suit.
I'll admit it: I lost weight through the miracle of GLP-1s. Not a diet , not willpower , not some late-breaking revelation about kale or walking the requisite number of steps for weight loss. Just good scientific cosmic timing, and finally deciding my body deserved help rather than punishment . While it's true I have never been much of a foodie, I needed something to jump-start all those hormonal pounds that accumulated over several decades, and this stuff works.
Then there is the matter of what I can only describe as a dramatic reduction in nonsense tolerance. Not rudeness. I'm not advocating for anyone becoming That Person at the dinner table. But the quiet, invisible nonsense. The obligations that never made sense, the relationships maintained out of habit rather than genuine affection, the worrying about what people think when they're mostly just worrying about what you think of them.
I can’t be gas-lit as easily. I don’t feel guilty about bowing out of social situations or even one-on-ones with people I know I won’t enjoy or relate to. And I delight in hearing slight shrieks when I add a few 4-letter words to some of my most articulate opinions. Go figure. Just when they all thought I was so classy.
I have more fun now. Real fun, not the performed kind. I laugh harder, I'm more curious, I say yes to the things I actually want to do and no to the things I don’t. Better yet, I've stopped waiting for permission from an authority I can no longer even identify.
Now when I look in the mirror wearing a piece of clothing that had sat unattended and un-donated for decades but refused to think I'd never wear it again, I see the younger version of me, even though there are a few Spanx-camouflaged leftover flaps underneath. That renewed appreciation serves no one but myself, however. If others notice it, I consider it a bonus but don't dwell on it. We are all on our own journeys, after all.
If you're standing at the precipice of this decade with some trepidation, I get it. The cultural messaging is not exactly encouraging. In fact, there may be friends and relatives dropping like flies around you. So sad. But I'd invite you to consider the possibility that what's coming isn't a diminishment of who you've been. It's more like a very long exhale.
The 70s, as it turns out, might just be where you finally get to show up as yourself. No rehearsal, no audience, no apology . Just the you you were always meant to be. And unlike Sally Field crying over, “They like me, they really like me,” as she accepted her Oscar, I am the one who likes me even if no one else does. And there’s the glorious rub.
Blanchflower, D.G. & Oswald, A.J. Research on the U-curve of happiness and life satisfaction across the lifespan. Search "Blanchflower Oswald happiness U-curve" for current publications.
Carstensen, L.L. Socioemotional Selectivity Theory, Stanford Center on Longevity. See also: "A Long Bright Future" (Broadway Books). For an accessible overview, her TED Talk "Older people are happier" is widely available.
Charles, S.T., University of California, Irvine. Research on emotional regulation and well-being in older adults. Search "Susan Turk Charles aging emotional well-being" for peer-reviewed publications.
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Dena Kouremetis is a freelance writer, author, and professional blogger with a lot to say about life after 55.
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This article is part of the Bringwise Psychology Journal — daily insights on human behavior, mental health, and personal growth.