Aging is not an easy process. I'm going to go ahead and say that the less-than-fun parts of aging really start up after 40 years old. My mom died when she was 42 and I was 13, so I've always known that life is tenuous and precious. Because I didn't get to watch her age, I didn't know what was coming for me! Ladies, you know what I now know: between 40 and 54, there have been a myriad of surprises in the aging department for me, including but not limited to: One alcoholic drink is about all I can handle. Everything hurts if I eat junk food (and some things hurt even without junk food). I take glucosamine for my joints every day, and boy, do I notice if I miss a day. Then there are the "Surprises". Once you get used to the neck wrinkles, other things start popping up.
Did I mention my chin hair? Yeah, a friend called it to my attention. I had been unaware of the half-inch long chin hair coming out of a new mole on my chin. It’s like I've got a pair of striped tights and red ruby slippers hidden somewhere. Ack!
Anyway, needless to say, as everything slides downhill, I care less and less about the things I used to. I don't wear much makeup, and I've let my hair go natural more often. I wear sweatpants and hoodies more often after I turned forty than I ever did in my youth. As I age and mature, I'm not nearly as concerned with what people think of me. Which is good, because as a woman ages, very few people think of her at all.
When I lived in Chicago and was younger (and maybe "cooler"), I would wear black and gray and red—but no print. No floral, for God's sake. Definitely not other colors. As I've gotten older, obviously my style and tastes have changed, but I've started being a little wackier. I've taken risks with my appearance. I sometimes wear glitter on my arms and face, and I'm not going anywhere near Coachella.
One of the worst things about aging is the different health issues that come up. This week, one of those issues made me go to the dermatologist for a biopsy in a very tender area. I had lots of feelings about the whole situation. Anyway, I needed a little extra oomph to get through my day–to conquer my fears, my feelings, and my sorrow over my aging body and the challenges it throws in my way.
I made a new friend last weekend who happens to be just as playful and fun and wild as I am. Cindy has a closet full of gowns, Ren Fair wear, and costuming, and she incorporates unexpected pieces into her daily life like I do! But what she had that I did not have was a gorgeous, glittery, sea-foam green, full-skirted, floor-length ball gown. I'm pretty sure I swooned and clutched at the skirts as it hung in her closet. I do not now, nor have I ever, owned anything even slightly like it. Cindy said, "Borrow it!" I said I wish I had a place to wear it, and she said, "Wear it to Aldi, who cares?" And you know what? She's right.
So, on a normal Wednesday when I had some errands to run, I had my dad help strap me into this gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous confection of a dress, and I wore the dang thing.
Everywhere. The dermatologist. Target. My mother-in-love's senior community. The local bookstore that carries my novels!
I noticed something that surprised me. Sure, people smiled and complimented the dress–I think more people smiled at me today than they ever have in my entire life, except for maybe when I was carrying one of my infant daughters. But other people didn't even acknowledge me. I don't know if they were uncomfortable with my crazy appearance or if they just didn't notice me or what, but I thought that was fascinating.
I want to encourage all of you to wear it. Wear whatever "it" is. And don't worry about the stuff you're worried about, because no one's paying attention. We're not getting extra time here; none of us knows how long we get on this big, beautiful planet. The world can be a dumpster fire, and we aren’t ageing backwards so now you know exactly what to wear: Whatever you want.
Music: "Sign of the Times" by Harry Styles
