You know, I went to sleep one night and woke up a woman of an unmentionable age. I wasn’t ready for it, don’t know if I ever will be. Some days my body says, yeah, you’re not 23 anymore. Then other days, I feel like I could run a marathon. My head says, no way… I can’t be more than 35 at the very most.
The way I see it, there are four types of middle-aged women. The most obvious is the one that is in total denial. She’s the lady that sparkles in her rhinestone glasses, with the 2 inch platform shoes, the bright red Brighton Downtown Messenger bag, dressing like she’s closer to 24 than 54. And laughing a little too loud to cover up the heart that’s breaking. She’s not ready to let go of her youth. She’s the life of the party and men flock to her side while the wives stare from across the room, shaking their heads and whispering that she needs to act her age. Pure jealousy. I secretly think she’s pretty cool, having the guts to pull it off takes… guts…
The second little darling is the one that just doesn’t care anymore about outside appearances. She’s let herself go, hair graying and in the same style as it was 20 years ago . Wearing clothes she’s had for years because they still fit. She’s stuck in a time warp and doesn’t realize it. It’s just not important any longer. Her priorities are home and family. She’s the backbone of the community but she’s given up before her time without realizing it. And she would be horrified if she ever thought about it and realized that she has lost her personal purpose. She’s just biding her time, thinking that her life is mostly over. So she dedicates her life to those grandbabies and doesn’t think about her own needs. Her reward is the love she sees in those baby’s eyes and she then knows all is well in her world.
Then you have the classic. She accepts and embraces her maturity. She has always dressed in “style” but age appropriate. She has a signature piece that she’s known for. Her hair is carefully highlighted and kept short since women her age don’t have long hair. She’ll wear jeans with heels, doesn’t own a pair of ratty sweat pants and always carries the Louis Vuitton Speedy 35 that she’s had for years. She can appear to be cold and aloof but she really isn’t, just reserved because that’s the way a lady is supposed to act. Her grandchildren call her “Grandmother” and she keeps them out of the living room so they won’t break anything.
Then you have me… I like to sparkle because I like shiny things (Cammy and I were parakeets in a previous life.) I love to spend as much time as possible with my grandbabies and a great day is spent playing Hide and Seek in a t-shirt and sweat pants. I get along better with men and most women do talk behind my back. I wear my jeans a little tighter than I suppose I should and the higher the heel, the better I like it. I have two signature pieces that I constantly wear, diamond studs or gold hoops. I wear button down white shirts with blazers and jeans. I show more cleavage than my kids are probably comfortable with and I get my shoulder length hair “done” every five weeks. I can whip my grandson in a light saber fight and draw a pretty rainbow on the driveway with chalk. My coffee table becomes a race track and the hearth is decorated with little Pet Shop animals.
I think I’m pretty much a combination of the first three. Nowhere perfect at all but hopefully a good person. I try to stay current with today’s stuff and not stay stagnant. I hope that my g-babies will remember me as the best ever, fun-loving, dancing Nanny. I still have the urge occasionally to dance on a table but I’m able to restrain myself and act my age. As long as I can still get a wink or a whistle from a handsome man, I’m good! So… I guess in the long run, middle age seems to suit me just fine… since I have no other choice.
With much love,