the invisible woman

I use this blog to show off my lovely clients and, once in awhile, my wonderful Mr. Susan and my wonderful dogs. Today I’m going to use it to show off me. I don’t often show myself off; I’m not a great beauty, I’m not very tall or athletic or thin and I don’t think I’m very photogenic. And then also, I’m 51. I’m well past the age when women think they should be showing anything off, much less themselves!

When I was 19 years old, I was convinced that older women wanted to BE me. I imagined they were jealous of my smooth skin and wrinkle-free face, my toned legs and arms…I imagined they were jealous of my youth. I didn’t want to ever grow old. I was never going to be old, I told myself. I was never going to be creaky and crabby and cranky and all the things I imagined anyone over 25 to be.

Well that was thirty-two years ago, and you know, I’m pretty comfortable showing myself off. I’ve got the wrinkles, some flabby spots here and there (emphasis on “and”), and I’m not really cover material, and I know that. But that’s ok. In fact, it’s great.

I’d always heard that women past a certain age would become “invisible;” that people, that society, would no longer  notice them. But I’ve always heard that to be a bad thing; another inequality between older men and older women. Older men become distinguished and handsome and grow into their age; older women, well, they just grow old.

I say, Bullshit!

I *am* an older woman, and I *am* invisible to a lot of people, and you know what? It’s fucking awesome.

What freedom I have! I could never have imagined that I could be whatever I want; I could wear whatever I like; I could do things and say things and be things that I’m not sure I would have done when i was young. Because when you’re young, everyone is watching. (At least, that’s what it feels like.) If you’re a girl, certainly boys are watching. Your parents are watching. Your teachers are watching. The world is watching. Mostly, I remember people watching, and waiting, for me to make a mistake and “set [me] right.” Well I’m set quite nicely, thanks.

Growing old is a trip. I’m smarter, funnier, wiser and kinder. I’m more patient with everyone and everything.

And I never did grow up.

There are entire industries out there whose incomes depend solely on the hope that when you wake up in the mirror you’re going to hate what you see. Don’t.

Don’t be afraid to grow old. Don’t be afraid to grow. Don’t be afraid of the wrinkles, or the flab, or the 19 year olds looking at you with oh, so much pity.

Grow old; it rocks. But never, ever grow up.