Maybe it’s because more celebrities are over 50 (Madonna, Oprah, George Clooney, Michelle Pfeiffer, Meryl Streep . . . ).

Maybe it’s because the post-50 market is growing bigger and living longer.

Maybe it’s because those over 50 have more discretionary income to spend on cars, electronics, skin care, vacations and so on than any other demo.

Here’s the interview I had with Cindy Rakowitz, host of SuperStars of PR on VOICEAMERICA Radio during which we explore what’s really going on in the minds of marketers. Will they ever put the dollars behind the post-50 demographic?  While the media continues to try to convince us that “young is better,” I am sensing a definite shift taking place . . . if not quite a sea change.  Listen in, and let me know what you think . . . Paradise After 50: SuperStars of PR with Cindy Rakowitz

Luckily, I held on tight to Gunther’s leash (not that he would ever leave my side), but my phone went flying and I was flat out on my stomach. It happened so quickly, I’m still in shock when I think about it. I wish I could say I tripped on a piece of sidewalk that was sticking up, or some garbage that I just hadn’t seen. But, no. I tripped on my own two feet.

Result? A nice, clean, straight break on my radius neck . . . an area just below the elbow. The pain was intense as I held my broken arm while calling my husband on the cell phone. My girlfriend, with whom I had been chatting, was frantic. She didn’t even know where I was. After everything and everyone calmed down, I went to the ER, got an X-ray, and was sent to an orthopedic surgeon, who diagnosed my break, and introduced me to my two new best friends: “Splint” and “Sling.” They’ll be staying with me for about eight weeks. Oh, and Heather, my Physical Therapist whom I’ll be seeing twice a week for eight weeks is hanging with us, too.

The good news is I don’t need surgery and I’m not in a hard cast. The bad news is it’s my right arm and I’m a writer and this is really and truly inconvenient. However . . . I also realize it could have been so much worse. The other bit of good news is that now my two daughters are doing a whole lot more around the house. They sometimes give me a suspicious look when I pout and say, “Oh, Sarah (or Elizabeth) could you please empty the dishwasher? (or fold the laundry? or do the dishes?). It’s a wonderful benefit.

But, I digress.

This past weekend I had to attend a black tie wedding, which I was thrilled about going to because it meant I could bring out my grown up,  long, black kinda slinky dress with spaghetti straps and wear it for the big event. It’s the kind of dress that I only have reason to wear once in a while. And I had no backup.

When I fell, not only did I break my arm, but I also bruised my knee and my left arm, as well. My knee, of course, would be covered by the dress, and my right arm would have the splint and sling, but my left arm . . . well . . . wasn’t looking too attractive.

I thought about wearing something over the dress, like a wrap. But, with the sling, a wrap could become very cumbersome, very quickly.

I thought about just saying “Oh, who cares?” and going with the spaghetti straps, but I wasn’t feeling comfortable (my bruised arm would have become more of a conversation starter than my broken one.)

Then, it hit me: my daughter had a very old sheer black top that tied in the front, meant to be worn over a sleeveless or spaghetti strap dress. Sure, I could have just thrown that over my own dress, but I had something much more interesting in mind.

The morning before the event, I took my dress and the sheer black top to my tailor, a wonderful woman who was born and raised in Korea, and who now had a successful tailor and dry cleaning shop just a block away from my home. With a lot of help, I put my dress on in her shop, told her my vision, and she got to work pinning and talking in Korean to her partner. Then she said, “Okay!”  I left the dress, and my high hopes, with her.

The next day, just two hours before we were scheduled to leave for the wedding, she delivered the dress. Knowing that if it didn’t look good, or didn’t work, I was in big trouble.

Well . . . here it is. You decide.

I took a 15-year old dress and with a little bit of vision and a lot of help from a wonderful seamstress, I now have a brand new dress that’s a little hipper, sexier and more fun than the original.

I think my husband was pretty happy with the result . . .

Studies have shown that obesity contributes to many illnesses and diseases including diabetes, which is running rampant in this country. Ms. Deen revealed recently that she has had Type 2 diabetes for several years.  Also known as the “lifestyle illness,” Type 2 diabetes, for the most part, is caused by too much weight, too much high fat in food (butter, perhaps?), and too little exercise. Ms. Deen, being an authentic woman, ate  her own cooking while urging others to follow suit, even in the face of an alarming rate of obesity among young children who, conventional wisdom suggests, get their meals cooked for them by parents, who might very well be influenced by the authentic cooking of Ms. Deen.

Sometimes maybe authenticity isn’t such a good thing.

Ms. Deen, still being true to herself, has outed her diabetes and is now going on a nationwide tour harking new, improved, healthier recipes and–even more authentically–a diabetes medication from Norvo Nordick. The tweets on Twitter have been deliciously entertaining. One tweeter noted, “I think it’s completely gross that Paula Deen made $$$ pushing food that makes you sick and will now make $$$ pushing medication for  it.”

Hmmm.

I’m all in favor of being true to yourself, sticking to your guns, and living your life as an authentic being . . . but I’m a skeptical of those who can change on a dime and make money from it.

Instead of pushing meds, I would prefer Ms. Deen pushed a healthier lifestyle and became the role model she is absolutely capable of being.

Five years ago, I turned 50. It felt as though everything changed overnight. 
In my 20s, 30s and 40s, I charged ahead with life, first throwing myself into my career — I worked as a magazine publisher — and then, in my late 30s, meeting my husband, getting married and having children. 
Those busy years almost seemed like one long decade, during which I didn’t feel any different about how I looked or acted. 
I never stopped to think about what impact the way I was living might have down the road.

Then, one day, I woke up and… I was 50. Suddenly, I would catch myself in the mirror and notice my drying skin, crow’s feet, the way my hair looked. I felt aches and pains for the first time. I also began to gain weight. 
It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was steady and showing no signs of slowing down. Weight gain can often be a part of the aging process, especially after women go through menopause. However, I remember reading somewhere that five pounds was an acceptable amount to gain, but anything more was another term for “letting yourself go.”

I knew that if changes weren’t made — and fast — I’d be heading into my 50s at a terrible disadvantage. Wanting to stay healthy, fit, energetic and productive for the rest of my life, I was ready to change — and possibly save — my life.
 I didn’t simply want to think, “I’m 50 now, that’s it, my life is over.” I wanted to be fearless after 50. There’s been a lot written about how women cease to exist once they hit this age. 
Despite our great consumer power, post 50 women are often dismissed as invisible, and seen as neither young nor interesting enough. This is so wrong, and I was depressed thinking that this was my future.

But, there was more…

When I turned 50, I found myself asking the ‘what if’ questions: What if I get sick or have a heart attack? What if I get Alzheimer’s? What if I get cancer? Do I already have cancer without knowing it? 
I looked around and people my age were having strokes, struggling with depression, developing diabetes. 
It’s not that younger people didn’t have some of these health concerns, but that after 50 they seemed all too common. And the closer I looked, the more I realized that many of these health issues were in my control. The more I thought about it, the more questions I had. I began to wonder if there were tests I should be getting and asking what I could do to make sure that I lived a healthy life.

Like many women, I had gone a long time without doing simple things that could positively affect my health. 
Many of us are part of the so-called sandwich generation — caught between looking after our children and caring for elderly parents — and I realized life had kept me busy taking care of others, yet failing to do the right things for myself.

Sleeping enough and exercising daily had come to seem like an indulgence, even as I made sure that my family was well-fed and well-rested. 
So I embarked on a quest to discover how ordinary women could look and feel their best in their 50s and beyond. 
I soon realized that what I wanted was the best information I could find. I began to contact beauty experts and financial experts. 
I talked to the renowned hairdresser Frederic Fekkai, and to fashion designer Diane von Furstenberg. 
I tracked down women’s health specialists and exercise gurus, nutritionists and make-up experts. And, after hearing their advice, I took it.

I started going for slow runs with breaks for walking every day and learned how to do push-ups and other exercises to prevent osteoporosis. 
I went for annual health checks. I changed the way I ate and dropped the bad habits I’d slipped into. 
Where I had once spent my time dieting instead of eating, I began to pay attention to what I ate and to eat something healthy and small every couple of hours. 
I even accepted the fact that my hair, which I had spent decades straightening, was naturally wavy and looked its best that way. And I didn’t just lose the 15 lbs. I gained, I dropped an entire pants size.

Five years later, I feel fitter then I have at any time since I turned 30. 
More importantly, I found that I don’t only look and feel better, my health has improved. 
My cholesterol levels dropped and I even ran the New York City Marathon this year to celebrate my 55th birthday and raise money for a very deserving charitable organization. 
And, while turning 50 gave me a shock, now that I am 55 I am happier than ever before.

I loved the earlier decades of my life but I rushed through them. I was more insecure then and less happy about how I looked and felt. 
Like many women, I sought approval from everyone except myself. Now, when I look in the mirror, I see a woman who is brimming with confidence, enthusiasm, and energy. I am happy with who I am and with how I look — including my crow’s feet, which are a part of the story of my life.

So many of us fear aging when we should embrace it. But the greatest lesson I learned on my quest for reinvention is we need to feel comfortable in our own skin, whatever age we are. 
Whether you are 49, or 62, or 75, you need to decide that you are going to be the fittest, healthiest and best-looking 49, 62, or 75-year-old there is. 
For too long, women have been tricked into seeing 50 as the end of the road when, instead, we should be viewing it as the start of a new life, one in which we are truly comfortable with who we are. Instead of retreating from the world, we can embrace our place within it.

Turning 50 did more than save my life. It put me on the path to a new one.