AARP Hearing Center

This is the fourth in a series of columns about retirement by former AARP Publications deputy editor Neil Wertheimer. Read his previous column here.
On my last day of full-time work, my coworkers threw me the most beautiful of retirement parties. In the days that followed, photos of the event poured in via text and email. I was horrified.
In shot after shot, beneath my exuberant grin I looked overweight, splotchy, dull. I saw myself as just a few steps removed from some old uncle from Florida named Frankie or Irv, the type who wears plaid sport coats over under-buttoned pink dress shirts, keeps his thinning hair in a Brylcreem-slicked comb-over, who seems to take pleasure in saying embarrassing things a little too loudly at restaurants. Maybe that’ll be me in 20 years, but certainly not now.
This was no way to enter a retirement for which I had so many plans. I vowed to make an immediate visual upgrade: Get a better haircut, lose the gut, dress with more flair. I made some tepid attempts, yet six weeks later that crazy uncle was still staring back at me in the mirror. A light bulb went off: Grow a beard.
I first dabbled with a beard more than 40 years ago, at age 22. For some reason I wanted to look older then; that bout of grizzly-faced insanity lasted but a few months. During the COVID pandemic, I succumbed to trying a beard for several months to be in solidarity with my sons, who were opting for no haircuts until lockdown ended. But the beard grew somewhat wild and was soon mowed. Now, in retirement, I vowed, let’s do it right: keep it trimmed and tended.
The stubble of week one appeared frighteningly white; my sons congratulated me on my budding career as a mall Santa. Ha. But as it filled in over the coming weeks, thankfully in a salt-and-pepper coloring, good things started to snowball (please excuse the expression).
I got compliments! Bunches of them! Which gave me the impetus to try harder. I struggled with keeping my beard trimmed via scissors, so I ordered an electric hair clipper with all the fancy attachments. I soon learned how to use a few to keep my beard height uniform and my cheeks and neck shaved and neat. Which then led to buying a made-for-men face lotion and bottle of beard oil, products I had never used before. And suddenly, a woman friend giving me a hello hug said, “You smell nice!” I was so taken aback, she could have sold me a sports car on the spot.
I switched barbers for the first time in years. The old one had long ago said to me, “You should cut your hair like George Clooney: classic, distinguished,” and I had gone along. But I don’t look like George Clooney; at best, I might look like his accountant. George’s super--neat, perfectly side-parted coif didn’t serve my looks and certainly didn’t match my personality. The new barber, hearing of my retirement and hopes for a more spirited look, went for a flowing, wind-tossed cut: longer on top, shorter on the sides.
You Might Also Like
10 Ways to Manage Wrinkles Over Age 50
Discover practical strategies to enhance your appearance
AARP Smart Guide to Pre-Retirement
Take these steps when you’re 10 years, 5 years and 1 year away from retirement
Traveling With Friends When Budgets Clash
When vacationing together, financial compatibility is key