This was originally posted in May of 2015 but it’s my pick for this weeks Throwback Thursday!
Oh the dreadful “over the hill”. Somedays I feel like I am already buried in the hill but here is a list of just a few things that remind me I have reached the age of 40 something.
When riding in the car and you turn the station to “Hair Nation” ((don’t judge me)) and your kids look at you like you have just turned on a foreign language. Along with your husband who is five years younger can’t stop making fun of you for listening to such a station.
When you wake up but it takes you 30 minutes for the “overnight kinks” to get the hell out of your body.
When the first cup of coffee is only for the flavor….it takes 3 or 4 more to actually wake you up.
Your nipples are just about headed south for the winter…well actually for the rest of your life unless you get a boob job.
Your menstrual cycle is no longer referred to as a period, it’s now more like a huge freudian ink blot.
You can no longer be friends with hard liquor. The hangovers that used to take a day to recover from now take no less then a week.
You walk into rooms forgetting what the fuck you came in there for…oh wait that’s been something I’ve done most of my life…I blamed pot before…now I just blame it on being over 40.
A “wild” night consists of being out until midnight.
The “little black dress” now goes past the knees and half way to the ankles.
Your hair brush looks like a small furry animal.
It’s time for the dreadful squashing of the boobs in which is referred to as a mammogram…is someone sending my boobs a note?
You’ve replaced movies like “91/2 Weeks” with watching “The Food Network”.
It’s time to start worrying about retirement money that doesn’t exist.
You value your sleep. Sleep has suddenly become the most prized possession.
In high school you could eat a salad and work out to lose 10 pounds…now you would literally have to go on an episode of “Naked And Afraid” to lose any substantial amount of weight.
You purchase alcohol, and you break into your rendition of “the happy dance”, if the cashier asks you for your ID.
Every time you look in the mirror you notice another patch of gray hair not just a single hair here and there. There’s also a new laugh line even though you don’t laugh much these days.
Your mood swings have become more like large capsules of time.
You squint at everything forgetting that your glasses are sitting on top of your head.
I am sure there are many more but at 40 something I can’t remember.
With a new year approaching and the fact that I have taken time to get over my blogging burnout during the holidays, I have decided to challenge myself a bit and am going to try and write at leasts 3 posts a week using dailypost.com daily writing prompts. This will be along with the other ideas I have decided to challenge myself with as well.
I am a true believer that looking young, even as you get older, stems from good genes and how you treat your body. I saw a post on Facebook the other day of a woman who was 103 and didn’t look a day over 70.
My grandmother, in her 90’s, would go to the doctor and the nurse would say that they must have grabbed the wrong chart because she didn’t look a day over 60.
My father is still dating girls my age…and he is 71. Granted, most of them know he has some money but I don’t see a 71 year old man when I look at him.
And the same goes for my mother. Even with her gray hair, that she no longer dyes (which she is also lucky to have the perfect gray hair with highlights and low lights in all the right places) I don’t see a woman on the down slope to her 70’s. Even my toddlers told her she didn’t look old and we all know how brutally honest they can be.
I am also a true believer that you are only as old as you feel. Granted some days I feel older than others. Those are usually days followed by a night of too many cocktails and not enough sleep. But when I am doing something fun with my kids, working out at the gym, or even bopping around the house getting a ton of stuff done…I still feel the youth in me.
But when I speak of ageless beauty I am talking about who we are on the inside. What kind of adults have we grown into? Are we good or evil? It’s so easy to see all the evil people plastered all over the media that it’s hard to believe that there are still a majority of us that are kind, caring, and helpful to our fellow mankind.
This quote is so true on so many levels. People who render hate are usually just miserable themselves. And you know the old saying…
It’s not to say that we don’t all experience a bit of misery from time to time but it’s how we choose to distribute it into the atmosphere.
When I am miserable it’s usually taken out on those in my household. They have also learned that when I am feeling miserable or grouchy to just leave me alone and let me do my own thing.
Ageless beauty can also come in the form of an object. Like an old painting, building, or even those 20 year old pair of shoes in your closet that you just can’t bring yourself to throw away. Maybe the memories they hold are just too valuable, even if you haven’t put them on in the last decade.
Or an old pair of jeans that have been worn so many times that holes are starting to appear in places that parts you wouldn’t want others to see will soon be hanging out of…isn’t that what patches are for?
It can be a beautiful landscape that changes through the years but still looks beautiful.
There is so much ageless beauty in so many things…including we as human beings. It just takes choosing kindness over bitterness. Happiness over sadness (which I know first hand can be hard to do without winevodka medication sometimes).
I am not afraid of growing old…but I am afraid that I will get grumpier in my old age, as I see a pattern in the generations of women before me.
How do you feel about growing old?…how would you define ageless beauty? Do you have an item that you just can’t let go of?
Try to stay beautiful on the inside…always.
I also wrote a recent piece entitled “Love Who You Are Today” if you would like to read more about how I feel on this subject.
This morning I was listening to my morning Pandora radio as I was huffing and puffing along on the treadmill and I am not sure what the song was that came on but it was basically about being afraid of getting old and looking aged. That there isn’t beauty in growing old.
Now I will agree that I get upset every time I see a new gray hair appear on my head or a laugh line on my face, especially since I usually have “resting bitch face” going on. I have always tried to take good care of my skin since becoming a licensed aesthetician over 20 years ago.
I lather on the sunscreen…sometimes I forget the other parts of my body but I always have it on my face. I wear hats and sunglasses. But the truth is that someday…if I am lucky enough to live a long healthy life…I am still going to look…old.
I can remember at a very early age having an issue about my body image. I was a tall girl. Taller than the majority of my friends and back then I didn’t appreciate it at all. I wanted to be short. I hated being the tall drink of water that entered a room.
Then around 8th grade my boobs started developing. I remember being in the locker room and watching girls stuff tissue into their bras and all I could think was “why the fuck are you doing that?” Cause I was over here trying to smash mine into a 2 sizes too small bra, then a sports bra, and then the biggest t-shirt or sweatshirt I could find. I even tried duct taping them to my body once. Yes no joke … But feel free to laugh because it hurt like hell taking it off. Not the brightest moment of my teenage years.
I look at pictures of me now from when I was in high school and think to myself…wow you dumb girl…why didn’t you love yourself more…you had the body of a Victoria Secret’s model for fucks sake!
Ok I might be exaggerating a bit but just saying. But as the years went on I was just never satisfied with the way my body was. And now when I see pictures of myself from previous years I think…how come I didn’t think I was skinny enough or pretty enough?How come the majority of women are never satisfied with what they look like?
I guess what I am trying to say is this…enjoy who you are…love yourself today…tomorrow you will be older…next year you might have gained a few pounds…have more gray hair…more laugh lines. Especially you young teenage girls that I see on social media everyday complaining about how ugly and fat you are. SHUT THE FUCK UP and love yourself because you will never be that age, in that moment, ever again.
I have more confidence now in my 40’s than I did in my teens and as ridiculous as that may sound…it’s true! I no longer try to smash my boobs down and actually these days won’t buy a shirt that isn’t a v-neck. I go to the gym not because I feel fat but because I want to feel healthier and have more energy. Ok yeah, and I like to rock my jeans feel better in my clothing. I’d also like to take some boudoir pictures while my body still has elasticity to it. I encourage every woman to take some. Put them in a keepsake box, make a calendar for your husband …hell do some hot pictures WITH your husband or boyfriend! *By the way I am a photographer and would love to do a session of a couple…just putting that out there **grins**
So ladies I say embrace the age you are and I believe there is beauty in every age and like I said before, if you are lucky enough to make it to old age embrace it because not everyone is lucky enough to get the chance.
Let’s face it, from the time we are born there are times that being female just sucksstinks is dreadful.
Potty Training ~ I had a boy and two girls and let me just tell you that potty training for boys is a cinch. They can just whip that wiener out anywhere and go…half the time without anyone even noticing nor aiming for anything in particular. But as a girl we have to find a bathroom, squat in the bushes and hope we don’t get it on our pants all while hoping we have something to wipe with (leaves work wonders). If we are in a public restroom we have to layer paper on the seat or hover until our thighs feel like someone lit them with a flame about give out.
Adolescence ~ Bring on the boobs and the menstrual cycle and all the hormonal changes that are accompanied by the blossoming like a snap dragon years. Still in a stage of thinking that boys have cooties while they are over there coming up with nick-names to call your boobs. Yes I know this from first hand experience which you can read about here. There’s the dealing with mean girls and the constant feeling of wanting to fit in. Then when you finally do discover boys you also discover that they are nothing but a bunch of testosterone induced assholes jerks.
Womanhood ~ Getting married, changing your name and all the paperwork it entails. I mean seriously it takes everything including giving your blood! If you work in a predominantly male environment you are constantly trying to prove you are capable of walking all over keeping up with them. If you work with a bunch of females you are constantly trying to refrain from stabbing someone yourself from all the drama. Men get to age like fine wine while women get called things like “cougars”. It’s ok to see some old guy with a young girl but an older woman with a younger man and let the gossip begin. WHY? Why does there have to be a label? Cougars seek out their prey. I have never had to seek out a man…they come out of nowhere. How would they like to be called Praying Mantis’?
Here’s a few other reason’s why it sucks to be a female:
You’re expected to shave everything. I don’t care what they say about bush coming back…there is no man on the planet that likes to have to hack his way with a machete seek through the jungle to get to the gold. Do men even know what we go through to achieve such a beautiful “landing strip”. Seriously, do men need help finding the runway?
Putting make-up on. Ok, maybe you don’t have to wear make-up but speaking for myself I won’t leave the house without at least mascara on…otherwise I look like the boy from the movie “Powder”. And if I am wanting to compare myself to Kate Upton for the night then that requires a full on face-off surgeon at least 30 minutes of make-up application. And I still don’t look as good as she probably does when she just rolls out of bed in the morning.
Tampons ~ Need I say more?
Emotional. It doesn’t matter if it’s PMS or a Kleenex commercial, there is going to be crying involved. Along with the other C words of crazy, catty, and cuckoo. That other C word I won’t even whisper in fear that it may start WWIII. There is also insane, psycho, lunatic…just to name a few. Doctors claim there is medication for all of it…I say just drink wine.
High heels. I don’t wear them and I highly suggest that you don’t either… otherwise this is what your feet are going to look like…I am not a podiatrist but I am licensed to do pedicures.
Your feet were not meant to be bunched up and extended to such extremes.
Hair-do’s. How it must be so nice to be a male and just get out of the shower, slap some gel on or put a hat on your head and go….all while still looking fabulous. Sure I could cut my hair as short as my husbands and do the same, but I don’t wish to be my husband’s identical twin. DISCLAIMER: Nothing wrong with having short hair…been there…done that….burned the pictures.
Did I mention boobs? What is the craze about boobs? I seriously don’t get it. Maybe because I am not a man, but I would guess that a man’s balls are about the equivalent anatomy to that of a woman’s boobs, yet you don’t see women running around staring at men’s balls ok maybe not.
Orgasm. Again, need I say more?
Giving birth. Let’s just imagine the world if men had to push babies out of the holes of their manhood penises…..keep imagining…. Poof! There goes that thought along with mankind.
Wardrobe. I could wear the same pair of jeans, three times during the month, and every time, they look different on me. I also can’t just throw on a t-shirt and it looks good. It has to be a certain size to fit my boobs and I refuse to wear anything that isn’t V-neck. And if I find a t-shirt that I absolutely love and fits perfectly…I AM AFRAID TO WASH IT.
Putting up with men. This is a no brainer. Men are non-communitive, unemotional, unattached, simple, horny, effortless, restrained, orgasmic one track minded individuals that we women have no idea how to interpret. And then wonder why we are crazy.
Head to “Blogs I Follow” in the Reader. Scroll down to the third post in the list. Take the third sentence in the post, and work it into your own.
Ironically when I followed the instructions…the blog I landed on “SOMETIMES“…was also blogging about this challenge. The third sentence…”I hope he won’t mind”
I wonder if he will notice the few pounds I have shed and how hard I have been working to regain part of my “pre-baby” body. Does he see that I have been shedding my daily “SAHM” attire, which usually consists of a pair of sweats, with a half dozen holes in them and a shirt that still has spit up stains from nursing my babies so many moons ago? Instead, I have replaced them with the new pairs of jeans that he insisted I buy for myself and the new tops that I purchased on clearance because the price of the jeans almost gave me a stroke.
Has he noticed that I have been trying harder at keeping the house a bit more tidy and not letting the kids just string everything they own from one end of the house to the other? I too like a clean house…it calms my OCD restless mind.
Is my cooking improving? Are all those hours spent watching the Food Network and skimming through Pinterest paying off? I bet he would notice if I made something with Mayonnaise. He hates that stuff. I keep threatening that I am going to rest his ashes in a bulk sized container of it.
Wonder if he notices that my hair is in an imperative state and a patch of new gray hair has appeared, I swear, overnight on the China Express. Or how about the toe nail polish on my feet that is so grown out it looks like a french manicure. And don’t let me even get started on my fingernails that do nothing but peel and chip since moving to the northern hemisphere of Nevada. All of this is so ironic since I spent 20+ years working in the beauty industry.
Will he notice another laugh line appearing due to the fact that I have been laughing a lot more lately? Or maybe because I am going to be another year older in a couple days. We all know that on our birthday we wake up with some sort of random justification that “old age” is setting in. **wink wink**
Has he noticed that I stopped playing “Farmville2”? Well not completely stopped but surely quit the slight obsession I had with it.
Occasionally all of these thoughts run through my head about my husband. I am a real person with real emotions and concerns about how I am perceived in the eyes of my other half. It’s what makes me a wife. His wife. It’s not a question of love, that I know…just a confirmation that I am doing right by him and that in a conversation amongst his friends he would be proud to call me “his wife“.