You know what I’ve realized in my sixties? Owning things comes with upkeep — and I’m just not that interested in maintaining so much anymore.

A few years ago, I stopped wearing makeup. And honestly? It felt like exhaling. I’ve never really liked having things on my face. A dear friend of mine always says, “Lipstick is power.” And for her, it absolutely is — she looks radiant in it. But for me, it’s never been my thing. I’m perfectly content with my bare face, my real face. It feels honest. It feels like me.

I gave up heels, too. I wore them faithfully when I was younger. My daughter loves them now, and I smile when I see her clicking confidently across a room. I remember being a little girl, wobbling around in my mother’s heels, draped in her jewelry, feeling glamorous and grown. I still love  beautiful outfits and playful accessories. When I was young, I adored Miss Piggy — she used to say, “Less is less and more is more.” These days, I say: wear what makes you feel good. Period.

Now you’ll find me in tennis shoes, boots, flip-flops, or house shoes — although most of the time, I’m simply barefoot at home. There’s something grounding about that. Something free.

At 61, I live with far fewer rules. I’ve been single for 25 years. I was married once — we shared 14 years and raised two beautiful children before our paths changed. Those years shaped me, but they don’t define me. My children are grown now — 29 and 33 — busy building their own beautiful lives. I’m lucky; I see them often and we talk regularly. There may be no grandchildren yet, but I do have the sweetest little granddog who comes to stay when my daughter travels, and he fills my house with life.

The life I have today didn’t happen by accident. I’ve curated it carefully. I choose the experiences I want. I protect my peace. I nurture deep, loving relationships with the people who matter most. I find joy in ordinary moments — morning light, a long walk, laughter over dinner, quiet evenings.

I live small. I work. I move my body. I rest when I’m tired. I say no when I mean no. I say yes when it feels right.

I no longer measure my life by what I own. A good meal. Time with family and friends. Solitude. Gratitude. Health. That’s enough.

This life — simple, intentional, and beautifully mine — is the masterpiece I’ve been creating all along.