Well...
The day after I received an invitation to join AARP, my physical therapist gave me some bad news.
I know the suspense is killing you, but before I close that open story loop, let me ask you a serious question:
Has AARP lost its damn mind?
It's the American Association of Retired Persons. Retired. Please tell me who, in the year of our Lord 2024, is retired at 50-something?
Well, it turns out the organization is only formerly known as the American Association of Retired Persons. In 1999—TWENTY FIVE YEARS AGO!—the organization shortened its name down to AARP, as it "reflects the full of diversity of our membership." A membership which, by the way, is actually open to everyone 50+.
As far as I'm concerned, this is a branding problem.
Here's what I mean: It actually looks like belonging to AARP comes with some interesting benefits. And I'm certainly eligible, age-wise. But because of the feelings (aka, the brand) I associate with the organization, I just ... cannot join.
Even if it means I'd get a sweet discount on my Denny's Grand Slam.
I wonder what would've happened if the good folks at AARP would've changed their name entirely to escape negative brand associations. I'm guessing they thought of that, and had good reasons for not doing it. I just... wonder.
Speaking of Converse (no, we weren't; that was in a previous draft of this email, but I'm going to let the segue stand), here's the bad news from my PT:
"You're not going to like this, Kelley." [Suzie paused to put on her serious face.] "You need to wear supportive shoes."
Suzie had no way of knowing I'd just been invited to AARP, but the one-two punch just about did me in.
I can't go barefoot, even at home. And I have to hang up my Converse, including the lavender three-quarter tops I just bought.
Buuuuuuut, here's the thing: Within a week of doing what Suzie told me to do, the lingering BLECH from my ankle surgery last October started to clear up.
Sometimes, doing the stuff we're not going to like actually works.
Pep Talk #054: Wear the supportive shoes.
Most of us have received advice we don't like. Some of that advice is correct. Maybe your version of "supportive shoes" is to trade soda for water. To say no to the opportunity. To put yourself on a budget. To keep your phone out of your bed. To time block. To read the books you have before you buy new ones.Whatever it is (except that last one), do it. Wear the supportive shoes.
AARP is running a Black Friday sale on memberships: $9/year when you purchase a 5-year membership. I cannot make myself join!
Maybe I'll start my own organization for people 50+ who will likely work until they die, have (or have at least considered) a tattoo sleeve, wear Converse (if their PT would let them), and refuse to grow up.
Would you join?
Take care of your feet,
Kelley
P.S. I tried to write a pep talk about the election, but I'm just not ready yet. So I'll point you back to one I wrote a year ago that still applies: Lead with love. (It includes the same quote I used in Look for the humans. I guess that's my schtick.)
