So, You all know, I am as old as the hills! Hey, no need to hide those facts, otherwise, folks would be concerned someone young, looked as beat up as I do. I earned every single frigging wrinkle (smoking probably helped with a few), the saggy gut, well, that was thanks to a bit of a couple of things, one, eatting a fine diet of potato chips, and sugar, and the other, having 3 squalling kidlets chopped out severing my stomach muscles. I dye my hair, so that doesn't always tell my age, and I dye it something I wasn't born with, because, that would be far too boring!!
Now that I can afford it (sort of), I would love to buy a sparkly dress (like the Supreme's wore) or spike heeled sparkly shoes, or cut my hair something fantabulous, with various colours involved. But....I am too old, my arms now have that flubbery jello consistency, every move, makes them jiggle, so sleeveless is out of the question. I always thought tanned skin could handle the jiggle a little better, but, in my world, that is not an option. If I attempted to do what is apparently now very unhealthy, and get an awesome tan, it would certainly make a nice dark hue to the upper part of my arms, but i would end up like marble cake, you would always see the vanilla part, and that would likely add to the notice of the jello arms.
Growing up in a very small town, I had to hide my light under a cover of brown. I was Goth before Goth was cool. I wanted so badly to have black hair and white lipstick (white lipstick was in when I was young), but, wasn't going to happen in my world! I had to follow the norm, the biggest fear was "what are others going to say"? I tell friends now, that I was a "good girl" and I was. Not because I wanted to be, but because I was frightened to death of some other person in town, telling my parents they saw me doing such and such.
Back in the day, my parents could do very little to punish, didn't have a computer, didn't have my own TV (no one did) wasn't allowed to use the single family phone, all I had was a mono record player, my books, and the ability to go out with friends. So punishment was often physical, I can't ever remember getting grounded, and I actually think, to get the strap was preferable to me. Hey, it was over quickly, they made their point (I knew if I did it again, exactly what would happen) and then I could go out and moan to my friends, about how mean my parents were.
I never wore makeup growing up, as it was not something accepted in my home. I tried, perhaps once, to go out the door with mascara and lipstick on, and was told I looked like Bozo the clown, and to go wash my face. To this day, I can't stand makeup, always feel like I am caked in something, so...the wrinkles run free, the dark spots, and shadows under my eyes give me the Au Natural look. I am aware it may be frightening to young children, but....like my hero Si Robertson says "HEY"!! I will never be embarassed without painting my face and going out in public. Folks won't say, "whoa, she looks way older today, than she did yesterday"! I consistently look my age (maybe a few years older).
The only difference is, there are many times i do not realize my age. I hear how 50 is now the new middle age (think that used to be 30). Could be true. I admit to watching that analality on TV, Housewives of....., and those women are in their 50's. They are Botoxed to the rim, de-haired, de-veined , dehydrated, de-fatted, and totally in denial. But cripes, they sure don't look like 50 used to. Hey, I didn't even come close to looking that prime in my 20's!Oh, and they wear the sparkly dresses and the damn spiked heels!!
WTF??? I may forget my age for moments, or sometimes even hours, but, if I shoved a pair of spiked heels on my duck feet now, I would last only moments before they would have to come off, and my poor paws were able to spread out flat, where they would continue to holler at me for days.
I think I could manage to forget about how old I actually am, if my frigging body would cooperate. At the ripe old age of 56, when I stub my toe against the side of the bathtub, you may as well have taken a hammer to it. I assume my skin is now, besides full of wrinkles, as thin as paper. A tap on the foot, will cause the skin to rip right off, and damage me for weeks. I hit stuccoed walls with my hand, and skin peels. The dog hits my head with his, and I am black and blue. Hellloooo...reality!!
Because I don't have the mega millions to get myself all de-ed (guess spell check is telling me that's not a word, but you get it, right?) I will simply have to accept, 56 is exactly what it is...old!!Nothing new about me at all!!! And, although I regret all the pains and aches that my past has caused to my 56 year old bones, and I wish my skin was subtle and not folded over in waves, I embrace what 56 years has given in gifts.
I do not have to worry about "what other people think" , I do not have to try and act my age (and not my shoe size) I don't have to worry about making it in the real world, because I have been in the real world a lifetime. I don't have to worry about getting knocked up, LOL...I don't have to worry about having the latest fashions, or wearing colours that don't match, who the F*ck cares? I don't have to worry about growing old alone, got that covered. And I have memories to envy, and I am still making them.
So, I suppose I can forget the sparkly dress, or perhaps just buy one some day, and wear it while I sit here nattering to you (Hey, might be doing just that right now, instead of my typical Betty Boop PJ's). I recognize my age, and I would keep it. I would however, like it if science could come up with an injection that could plump my damn skin up with some water, and then pop another needle into my bones full of Moo Juice (didn't drink near enough of that as a kid). That would be pretty near perfect!!