Growing old is a privilege…

I haven’t written a raw and honest post about myself for months. This post is entirely contradictory while working through the self-realization this week.

Whenever I thought about getting old, I never thought your age mattered. I’ve heard and seen people 10 years younger than me call themselves old men or women.

How you feel mentally and physically makes you feel old or young. I know people 10-20 years older than me that are very young for their age. 

So why is that? Your physical health plays a significant role. A body in motion stays in motion, they say. If you are in poor health or horrible physical shape, it can also affect your mental shape. 

My biological mother is beautiful and in fantastic shape. She easily looks and acts 20 years younger than she is. It shows on her face and attitude. I think she is gorgeous, and I hope I inherited those genes.

I feel like your age shouldn’t have any effect (within reason, of course) on the way you dress, wear your hair, what kind of activities or music you listen to, or how old your friends are. 

Last year, I painfully admitted on my blog how I had been hiding behind my black only wardrobe for more than 10 years. I was ashamed of my post-menopausal body; I hated it.

Whenever I looked in a mirror or saw myself in a photo, all I would see was my thick waist. It made me sick, and I wanted to cry. I body shamed myself every minute of every day. 

Last year’s blog posts took me through 6 months of dieting and working out 6 days a week. I figured if I didn’t try my hardest to get my figure back then, I never would. All that work, and I didn’t lose one fucking ounce or inch. 

That’s when I finally decided that “this is me. This was who I am meant to be; this is me.” This is a line from one of the songs from one of my favorite movies, The Greatest Showman. 

After that, I said fuck it and went out and bought some new clothes. I added colorful pieces to my black wardrobe. People noticed right away; they said color looked good on me. 

Ok, so I just wrote age shouldn’t affect how you feel. I also said I needed to accept myself for who I am. But, I was still holding on to more shame. 

For the last 7 or so years, I was disgusted by the crepey skin on my neck. I started noticing age spots on my body and hands. It put me into panic mode, and I went in search of creams and moisturizers promising to have younger-looking skin in as little as two weeks. Bullshit! I wasted a lot of money.

I have always taken good care of my skin, so I felt betrayed by my body. Every time I looked in the mirror or a photo, just like seeing my thick waist, all I saw were wrinkles. It was mortifying!

That was until this past week. I watched a tv show where hair designer and grooming expert Jonathan Van Ness was working with a 58-year-old woman. 

I saw myself in the way this woman saw herself. She was afraid to look old and went to great lengths to hide it. She was petrified by it, as was I. 

Jonathan told her that getting old is a privilege that many don’t get. He talked about the importance of acceptance and how gorgeous she was inside and out. 

His client was pretty and in great shape, teaching dance and working on her farm with horses. She had a gorgeous figure with nice boobs and great legs. Sadly, she didn’t see that when she looked in the mirror. 

What she did see was thinning hair and wrinkles. She dressed too young and trashy and wore a wig that she denied throughout the show. She wore lots of makeup, trying to look younger, making her appear older. She was ashamed and was afraid to trust Jonathan. 

She didn’t entirely trust him by the end of the show, but he left with advice and the tools she needed, including a hair club type of cap to help regrow her hair, making it thicker again.

The show went back and checked on her a year later. They usually check back sooner but couldn’t because covid hit and stopped everyone dead in their tracks, including their show Queer Eye. 

They found a younger-looking woman wearing cute clothing accentuating her knock-out figure with her natural hair. Jonathan told her how brave she was to step out from under the wig and trust him. Her hair looked beautiful, and she looked 100 times better.

I cried when I watched the end of the show. I was so happy for Terri. I didn’t expect how my feelings about myself started to change. All it took was a Facebook selfie the next day that appeared in my memories from 10 years ago. 

I looked at the photo and thought, well, shit, I pretty much look the same. I showed it to Marty, and he told me I did look the same. He pulls no punches with me, so I believed him. 

I had those same wrinkles back when I felt good about myself. Maybe I didn’t look as old as I thought. Perhaps people focused on my smile, personality, deep voice, or hair? 

So that’s it. That’s what it took. I have worked my way to think that I look and feel young for my age. Maybe people aren’t blowing smoke up my ass when they say I look like I am in my 40s and not 56. 

As you read this post, some of you may think, “that will never happen to me.” This post may resonate with some of you that feel the same as me, whether it’s wrinkles, excess weight, or hair loss. Some may think it’s ridiculous to be worried about appearances in the first place, or “who is she kidding; she does look old.” 

Whatever the case, I wanted to share another step on my journey with you. Another tough post for me to write like the “This is me” one from last year. If you would like to read it, click on the underlined link. 

I wrote today while we are on the road making deliveries and picking up some Trex decking boards at a bargain barn surplus place for a small deck we will be building to get in and out of the pool easier. 

Thanks for being on this journey with me. ❤️

***Marty pointed out I spelled waist as waste. I fixed it. Thanks auto correct for that little gem!