When I was fifteen, fifty-something year old women
were absolutely ancient. They were grandmothers with funny looking glasses and
baggy house dresses. I declared I would never look like that, not even when I
was ninety-something.
When I was thirty, fifty-something year old women were
kind of old. They were mothers with no nonsense attitudes and awful taste in
shoes. I might have a no nonsense attitude but never would I wear those
orthopedic shoes with a silk suit.
When I was forty, fifty-something year old women were
my older cousins. Gosh, women were getting younger every generation.
Now, I’m sixty-something. I’m not ancient even if I do
have funny looking glasses, wear baggy clothes and orthopedic shoes. At least
I’m still full of spit and vinegar and have taken this mid-life crisis by the
horns, looked it right in the face and spit in its eye.
Even with all my bravado, I have figured out a few
things about mid-life. Hey, don’t laugh. Sixty-something is mid-life if one
intends on living to be over a hundred. Strange things happen at this stage in
today’s sixty-something women.
Mid-life can bring out the angry, bitter side in a
woman. You look at your latte-swilling, beeper-wearing know-it-all teenage
granddaughter with a tattoo of a Celtic love symbol on her ankle and a gold
ring in her belly button and you think, “For this? For this I gave birth to her
mother and I still have stretch marks?”
It’s when our necks begin to look like they’re made
from the same material as a rubber chicken. If they would put all that
knowledge they use to launch rockets into making some kind of control top
turtle neck sweater that gives the appearance of a youthful neck, I would
definitely order one in every color.
It’s when women no longer have upper arms, they have
wingspans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels
in drag. Forget Julia Robert’s smile or Faith Hill’s legs, just give me upper
arms with no droopy, baggy bat wings.
It’s when we sit, waiting for the mammogram, along
with a room full of other women who easily fit into the mid-life category.
After no one needs one of those done yearly before they reach mid-life. It’s
realizing that this will be the only time someone will ever ask any of us to
appear topless in a film again.
Mid-life brings with it the wisdom that life throws us
curves and we’re now sitting on our biggest ones. It’s when you finally get the
courage to stand before the floor length mirror after a shower, drop the towel
and open your eyes, and you can see your fanny. Only you didn’t turn around.
Gravity has grabbed it and it’s sagging as bad as the upper arms.
It’s when you want to grab every firm young lovely in
a tube top, shake her soundly and scream, “Honey, even the Roman Empire fell, and those things will, too?”
It’s when we shave our legs less. Which is good
because we have more time to devote to taking care of our newly acquired
mustache.
It’s when your memory really starts to go and the only
thing you retain is water.
You know you’ve crossed the mid-life threshold when
your Body-by-Jake now includes Legs-by-Rand McNally (more red and blue lines
than the map of the state of Texas .)
You start pondering the “big” questions: what is life,
why am I here and how much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it’s no
longer a healthy choice?
The good news about this time of life is that the
glass is still half-full. Or course, the bad news is that it won’t be long
before your teeth are floating in it.
Now tell me ladies, what is it about mid-life that has
you draping all the mirrors in the house to preserve your sanity and your
vanity?
My whole body, I close my eyes get undressed, open get in shower, closed eyes again, wssh up, open eyes, get out, close eyes, dry off and get safety hidden in clothes again before opening eyes again! Lol! Bet there alot of you out there that do the same thing, you just won't admit it! Lol!
ReplyDeleteI rarely undress in front of my hubby anymore. I am so self conscious because of the weight gain and of course everything droops now. I can't even hold in my stomach anymore. I'm on hormone pills because of all the hot flashes and uncontrollable tears. Lord I'm pushing 50 but feel like 70. But as long as I have my books I'm a happy girl. They still keep my dreams alive.
ReplyDeleteEverything!!! I don't like mirrors anymore they scare me when I look at the person looking back at me. Parts of my body have shifted so far south they have their own zip code and boundary lines. Thank goodness for jeans and loose shirts, hides a lot!!! Lol
ReplyDeletethat's why our vision fades as we get older...it's easier NOT to see all the wrinkles
ReplyDelete