I’ve lived my life with enthusiasm, courage, raucousness and passion. Why on earth would I want to grow old gracefully?

Why would I want to be Whistler’s Mother when my whole life what I’ve wanted to be is Mae West?

Let’s face it: It’s just about as likely that I’ll become calm, serene, and dignified as I age than it was that I’d be prim, proper, and sweet in my youth.

Those were always lovely fantasies--for somebody else. But like charming dresses that would never flatter me, I don’t fit into these patterns. They weren’t designed with me in mind. No matter how I try to tailor them or hold my breath long enough to slip them on, I know they’d be confining, inappropriate, and impossible to carry off.

But “growing old gracefully” is one of those phrases we’ve heard so often we’ve internalized the concept without examining it. I’ve decided, rather than becoming contemplative and introspective as I age, to become more disruptive,........

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