Is it a joy, getting older. It depends on your outlook actually. Bette Davis said that ‘aging isn’t for sissys’ and she was absolutely right. I never felt old at all, still don’t but occasionally one or both of my sons will refer to me as an ‘awl wan’ and I suppose I am.
Menopause forced me to face my age, my body was going to change whether I liked it or not. Menopause forced me into stretchy jeans and porn star size bras. I can no longer stand with my hands on my waist as that decided to make a hasty exit when menopause arrived.
But I really knew I was old when in a Parisian shopping centre with my brother-in-law and he, within seconds of arriving confirmed both the wi-fi codes and the location of bathrooms. The two most important things that a 50 something woman needs to know. As a result I can tell you the location of toilets and restrooms in every shop and shopping centre in Dublin. I can’t remember a phone number but I can tell you which restaurant and coffee shop has free wi-fi.
But as my body changes so does my mind and my attitude to life. I weep for the woman I was for the life I had and the attitudes I endured, the attitudes and opinions I had of myself.
It seems with age I’ve a grown pair of balls. Apologies for my crudeness but there you have it. Not only did the feral facial hair kick in but I also gained an attitude that and it’s wonderful not only do I utter the word ‘No’ but sometimes I actually enjoy saying it. I also enjoy the reaction of people who are used to me always saying yes. It’s wrong I know to enjoy others shock and horror, but I love it.
With age I have found joy in small things, like lip powder, which I have only just this week discovered, I’ve had a sudden bout of enthusiasm for it. I’ve found joy in learning how to ‘burlesque’ the truth is I have absolutely no rhythm but did I care about that, no, not a jot. Also, I could have been arrested for aggravated encouragement of other women ‘Burlesquing’ I’m of the opinion everyone should try it. But I wouldn’t have tried it or laughed about or even enjoyed it as much as I did, if I’d been a younger woman. It’s unfortunate be that’s how I was and I’m happy that it’s over and I’m older…
I’ve traded my once slim waist for my larger fuller boobs. (A good bra fitting is essential)
I’ve traded my full eyebrows for chin hair. (Always have a tweezers close to hand, for the chin hair you understand)
I’ve traded my once pert arse for a buddha belly. (lycra works wonders with a belly)
I’ve traded my thick black hair for grey infused hair. (Loreal do a wide selection of hair colours)
I’ve traded my shy awkward self for a not so shy, positively chatty self. (Talk to a stranger, I love chatting with strangers)
I’ve traded my inferiority complex for a very irritating self-confidence. ( I am now irritatingly confident) I now make YouTube videos..
I’ve traded my silky mini knickers for massive up to the boobs comfy cotton drawers. (Not only have I upgraded to massive drawers I showed the world my Knicker draw on YouTube)
Getting older is not easy but neither is it all bad. One reaches a point where youth meets maturity and its perfect harmony. This lasts all of 55 minutes and then you realise that your body is falling apart but not a jot do you give.
The Joy of Getting Older