Still Hot, Why Not?
5 THINGS WE ARE TOO OLD FOR
Age gracefully. This old saw has been cutting into our psyche for generations. We are supposed to age like a ballerina, tiptoeing through the pasture. Lovely snow-white hair lifts on a gentle breeze. A pacific smile plays around our delicately chapped lips. Our body, in a flowing dress or Lady Mao drawstring pants and cotton top, is generously plump. We stop, to rest upon a small outcropping of rock overlooking the Valley of Death, where we will soon arrive without a single complaint or “What the fuhh???”
Not me – and from what research into our demographic reports, not my generation. Today, women and men 50+ are aging radically. We are the Zuccotti Park of aging. Question every assumption; stir each stereotype. Are we too old to start a new career? Too old to move to a new place? Too old to be beautiful? Sexy? Strong? Healthy? To fall in love? Ride a roller coaster? Get married? Get un?
Is there anything we’re too old for? Wearing stiletto heels, maybe. Because we do take a little longer to heal. And, for women and most men: too old to start a family. (The 1% of men who are richest can still have babies because they’ve got the money, staff and gold-digging young thieves, I mean wives to help.)
Yet there are some things that we have outgrown:
- We are too old to wait for a man to call. Hell, if he doesn’t get what a fabulous catch we are, with all our life experience and particular beauty (all young girls look alike but every middle-aged woman looks like herself), we don’t need him.
- We are too old to hate our bodies. Having finally realized that we were exquisite when we were twenty, even though we probably hated our bodies or some part thereof, we know better and appreciate the beauty that we have.
- We are too old to be treated shabbily. The days of being a meek yes-woman are past. Speaking our mind feels natural and necessary, and if he can’t stop staring at that thirty-seven year old across the room, we’re outta there.
- We are too old to put up with nonsense. Our bull-o-meter has gotten fine-tuned to all that is flattery, brown-nosing and insincerity, unless we’re out on a particularly hot date, when hell with it, sweet-talk me.
- We are too old to sweat the small stuff. If we’re still fretting about the fact that the parking meter ate an extra quarter, we’ve probably led too sheltered a life.
And one more thing that we are, hopefully, too old for: habit. I am what I am? I am what I can become. There is a new and different way of doing just about everything, and while change for its own sake may not be good, a life without change is like a bus without wheels.
And that, gentle readers, is why my hair, or as we now say my “’do” has evolved from the long, brown locks you see in the photo above (taken, despite what you may have thought, Rick, just a year ago) to short-cropped and snow-white. It’s a new look and I’m loving trying it on and yes, there are a few enlightened men who find it sexy, or maybe, they’ve just got a thing for long, bare, soft, kissable necks.