According to my beautiful (and precocious) granddaughter...I am old. It came as some what of a shock to my delicate sensibilities; here I was clip clomping along the road of ignorant bliss, assuming that I was as young as I was 5 years ago...3 years ago...1 year ago. But alas, time is catching up with me. It seems now that I have graduated to aging in dog years.
I would like to share with you some of my observations on the aging process as a woman in her late 40's...47 to be exact...three years away from that number beginning with five and ending in zero.
I was born with a certain duality to my nature. The rift between these two halves of my psyche have grown over the years as I have learned and matured. So in the spirit of this duality, I will give you examples of why aging rocks the casbah...and why aging also sucks the big one.
I am funnier, wiser and more relaxed than I ever was in my 20's and 30's. I know what I like, what I don't like, and I'm fine letting those who will listen (and sometimes even those who won't) know the difference between the two.
I am more comfortable in my own skin. There is a flip side to this, but right now I am focusing on why my aging process is rocking the casbah. I no longer feel the need to dress according to what the latest fashion mags are promoting. I have my own fashion sense, and I wear what makes me, ME feel good. If you like it, cool. If you don't, I couldn't give a rat's butt. I'm not forcing you to wear it, so don't rain on my carnival.
I see more behind the veils of illusion now that I am older. One reason for this is my ability to be flexible and open minded. The older I get, the less I really know and I'm not afraid to acknowledge it. I thought I knew EVERYTHING when I was a teenager. Now? I realize just how much more I need to learn and absorb.
OK, we rocked the casbah a bit on those observations, now it's time for aging to suck the big one. First of all, what the HELL, gravity? I used to be able to walk around with the girls unfettered in the summer, barefoot and bra-less. Now I run real physical risk (whiplash, a black eye, possible hearing loss) if I try to walk around without a brassiere. Everything is being dragged South of the border these days. Did the moon's gravitational pull suddenly double when I hit my 40's?
My face is changing on a daily basis. I feel like I'm stuck inside of a Stephen King novel where my mirror is aging me by days instead of years. Except that it's not a Sci-Fi story, it's REALLY HAPPENING! Every morning I notice a new line, as if there is now a personal Wrinkle Fairy assigned to me. She's probably the tooth fairy's 2nd cousin who needed a job, has OCD and loves bilking the company for overtime.
And the biggest reason aging sucks the big one? The way our society views older women. We are not revered for our acquired knowledge and wisdom. American society dismisses us, as if our importance within the community has been diminished the more we mature. Leading ladies over 45 in Hollywood are in short supply. TV, movies and music seem to cater to the younger generations, leaving us mid-lifers out in the cold.
As aging women we are encouraged to pay for expensive anti-wrinkle creams, hair dyes, injections and dangerous surgeries. Why? So we can look younger. Does this change us in any way, add to our wisdom or increase the quality of our existence? No, it does not. It is purely superficial, and for this we risk our lives and integrity so society will take us seriously for a bit longer.
Well, there you have it. The duality of aging, for yours truly. Some days it rocks the casbah, some days it sucks the big one. But I wouldn't change any of it, because it's been a wild ride thus far and frankly, I'm curious to see what's next!
Here's a little something my dad used to say; Age is a matter of mind, cause if you don't mind, it doesn't matter. I hope you get to the place where it doesn't matter. I'm getting there...hopefully I'm getting there soon.
Oh, one more thing before I sign off. I earned these wrinkles and stretch marks that now decorate this imperfect, soul housing body. They are proof that I was, and still am a survivor, thriver and evolver. So embrace your aging imperfections, they prove you've actually lived and are still kicking ass and taking names.
Peace, and some safe, happy aging-
Kat
I would like to share with you some of my observations on the aging process as a woman in her late 40's...47 to be exact...three years away from that number beginning with five and ending in zero.
I was born with a certain duality to my nature. The rift between these two halves of my psyche have grown over the years as I have learned and matured. So in the spirit of this duality, I will give you examples of why aging rocks the casbah...and why aging also sucks the big one.
I am funnier, wiser and more relaxed than I ever was in my 20's and 30's. I know what I like, what I don't like, and I'm fine letting those who will listen (and sometimes even those who won't) know the difference between the two.
I am more comfortable in my own skin. There is a flip side to this, but right now I am focusing on why my aging process is rocking the casbah. I no longer feel the need to dress according to what the latest fashion mags are promoting. I have my own fashion sense, and I wear what makes me, ME feel good. If you like it, cool. If you don't, I couldn't give a rat's butt. I'm not forcing you to wear it, so don't rain on my carnival.
I see more behind the veils of illusion now that I am older. One reason for this is my ability to be flexible and open minded. The older I get, the less I really know and I'm not afraid to acknowledge it. I thought I knew EVERYTHING when I was a teenager. Now? I realize just how much more I need to learn and absorb.
OK, we rocked the casbah a bit on those observations, now it's time for aging to suck the big one. First of all, what the HELL, gravity? I used to be able to walk around with the girls unfettered in the summer, barefoot and bra-less. Now I run real physical risk (whiplash, a black eye, possible hearing loss) if I try to walk around without a brassiere. Everything is being dragged South of the border these days. Did the moon's gravitational pull suddenly double when I hit my 40's?
My face is changing on a daily basis. I feel like I'm stuck inside of a Stephen King novel where my mirror is aging me by days instead of years. Except that it's not a Sci-Fi story, it's REALLY HAPPENING! Every morning I notice a new line, as if there is now a personal Wrinkle Fairy assigned to me. She's probably the tooth fairy's 2nd cousin who needed a job, has OCD and loves bilking the company for overtime.
And the biggest reason aging sucks the big one? The way our society views older women. We are not revered for our acquired knowledge and wisdom. American society dismisses us, as if our importance within the community has been diminished the more we mature. Leading ladies over 45 in Hollywood are in short supply. TV, movies and music seem to cater to the younger generations, leaving us mid-lifers out in the cold.
As aging women we are encouraged to pay for expensive anti-wrinkle creams, hair dyes, injections and dangerous surgeries. Why? So we can look younger. Does this change us in any way, add to our wisdom or increase the quality of our existence? No, it does not. It is purely superficial, and for this we risk our lives and integrity so society will take us seriously for a bit longer.
Well, there you have it. The duality of aging, for yours truly. Some days it rocks the casbah, some days it sucks the big one. But I wouldn't change any of it, because it's been a wild ride thus far and frankly, I'm curious to see what's next!
Here's a little something my dad used to say; Age is a matter of mind, cause if you don't mind, it doesn't matter. I hope you get to the place where it doesn't matter. I'm getting there...hopefully I'm getting there soon.
Oh, one more thing before I sign off. I earned these wrinkles and stretch marks that now decorate this imperfect, soul housing body. They are proof that I was, and still am a survivor, thriver and evolver. So embrace your aging imperfections, they prove you've actually lived and are still kicking ass and taking names.
Peace, and some safe, happy aging-
Kat