As We Age

I'm 2-1/2 years older than Frank. So he trails behind me a bit in things like hearing a doctor give an explanation that begins with the words, "As we age..." Every time Frank mentions this to me, I say, "Welcome to my world."

I've been trying to figure out the process of aging for quite some time now, but I remain befuddled. I don't know how to dress anymore, for example. Do I dress young in an attempt to look young? If so, how do I accomplish that without looking like someone old, trying to look young? On the other hand, if I dress to look my age, then I'm dressing to look old, and that makes no sense at all, right?

More painful than my occasional aches and pains is... seeing myself in photos. Recently I asked Frank, "When did I become a frumpy old lady?" He said, "You are not a frumpy old lady. You are a distinguished older woman." I thought about that for a split second, and something went "click" inside my head. Yes, yes, it was indeed a compliment that I decided I could accept!

"Distinguished older woman" makes it a little easier for me to decide how to dress. My levis, for example. I don't have to give them up. I just need to dress them up! Add a little jewelry and shoes with high-ish heels, and I'm no longer an old lady trying to look cool in jeans, I'm a distinguished older woman. Trying to look... stylish!

But my hair, that's another story. I like long hair, and refuse to cut mine even though "they" say that "as we age" we are not supposed to have long hair. Maybe "they" don't mind sitting in a hair salon having cuts and trims and perms and new styles created, but I do. I'd rather go to the dentist.

And "they" don't know my hair the way I do. It's fine, for starters. Not fine as in, "Man, she's fine!" but fine as in limp. It has no body to it. At all. It won't hold a curl w/o a perm and a perm gives my hair a slight reddish tint, which causes darker roots as it grows out, giving the impression I've dyed it, even though I refuse to dye it. I have some silver streaks, and I like them. In fact, they're probably the only thing I like about my hair. Except for its length.

Long hair is symbolic of... a free spirit. At my age, it allows my Inner Rebel to have some fun. It's also easier to let it hang, pin it up, or pull it back with a hair band, than trying to manipulate it with rollers or a curling iron of some kind, which never works anyway.

I am a firm believer in, "How we look influences how we feel." That, of course, can easily be reversed -- How we feel influences how we look. But you have to start somewhere and in my opinion, it's easier to fix myself externally and let internally follow. Even though it's ALL in your mind. What you decide to wear, how you decide to do your hair. What, if any, make up to use. No matter how yukky you might feel, if you can somehow make yourself look better, I guarantee you'll feel better.

The same set of options can also connect or disconnect us with the world around us. Having been to Alaska twice (my favorite place), and going again in August (86 days to wait!), I know that for ten days I'll be in jeans, hiking boots, maybe a parka, and definitely no makeup. I'll fit right in. Forget distinguished older woman. If I were to hike the Chilkoot or raft the Mendenhall all gussied up, I'd feel silly and stick out like a sore thumb. In the wild, you don't want to call attention to yourself, which might attract a predator. You want to blend into the environment.

When I return to civilization, I'll need to readjust my thinking of course, and my appearance. Get back into my Distinguished Older Woman costume. Which means it's okay to be a little eccentric, but not a lot. We still need to keep ourselves safe. Not that I've noticed anyone chasing me lately.
Unlike my husband Frank, who still has cute little fifty-year-olds flirting with him. I love it. I find it reassuring. It confirms for me my belief that I made the right choice 35 years ago.