I really love getting older. This is absolute truth. I also have this theory that working so very hard to fight aging, ages a person. Pfft.
A few other truths — I had an unbelievably hard time when I was young and perceived as beautiful or cute or “hot,” or whatever. No thank you. I wouldn’t go back there for any reason.
As I move deeper into the truth, there are a few things about aging that I don’t love, but I think my complaints have very little to do with getting older, but I’m not sure:
- I’m pretty tired, MOST of the time. (I am a single mother of two teen/preteen daughters. I also work hard in my career.)
- My feet sometimes hurt, along with other body parts I never used to mention, let alone think about, like “rotator cuff.” (I think this is 85% to do with diet and exercise.)
- Coloring my hair when sitting at the salon and paying for it, feels wasteful. (I am about 38.4% gray, and if society were more accepting, perhaps I’d go with it. It’s still being considered, but isn’t likely for the next several years. I think it’s gorgeous.)
- It appears impossible to locate any man in this Universe that I can actually envision myself with for more than a moment or two. (Okay, I’m not really looking. Also, with age, I have become more discerning. I put my children, career and daily peace and happiness first. No man has been right for me thus far.)
- I notice that some women my age, in the area where we live, and perhaps well beyond, work so hard to block aging with intense exercise, non-evasive and evasive procedures. (No judgment here. I get why they do it and while I wish I had the same discipline to have my tush look as terrific as many of their tushies, I think their faces look terminally surprised. It makes me sad and it seems like fear to me. I would love to see their wrinkles, bulges, lines and scars.)
- I used to have a beautiful nose. (I know noses and ears keep growing. I don’t like my nose anymore. When I hated myself, at the very least, I had my beautiful nose. DISCLAIMER: Juliette broke my nose on an airplane when she was six months old and really, who cares anyway? It’s fine and I can breathe.)
- I miss my long, lush eyelashes and nice eyebrows (It’s not that big of a deal for me, because I am so much happier than when this and so many other photos were taken of me.)
My friend Lisa is turning 50 years old in early July. I knew this woman when we were both little girls. At the time, I’m sure she had no idea how sad I was, and I didn’t know much about her, except that she was sweet and adorable.
Now, Lisa is a gorgeous almost 50 year old woman, plain and simple. She’s happily married to a wonderful man who loves her. She is present with her family and friends. I won’t post a photo, but the woman is gorgeous. Like, “SHA-WING” gorgeous.
So, as a 51 year old with sore feet because I ate too much sodium, my advice to Lisa is to embrace getting older. That may not be that easy for some of us, especially with the sociological pressure on women, but for me, there has been a BIG pay off due to major trauma as a young girl and then, woman. My insides grew like mad and I am so very fortunate for that.
If you feel better getting Botox, fillers or a face lift, I’m not judging you. ZERO JUDGEMENT. Whatever makes you feel in love with yourself is fantastic and fully supported by me. I mean it. Please don’t do it for anyone other than yourself.
For me, as someone who has taken so many years to accept me as me, I’m going to let my wrinkles, lines, bulges and scars, just be where they are.
Either way, you are lovable just as you are, in this very moment.