I recently overheard a conversation between two gorgeous 20-somethings, all toned bodies, porcelain skin, mile-high legs, butts you could bounce a quarter off of, and boobs still up where God originally put them. One held up her wine glass, making a toast, and declared, “I don’t believe in plastic surgery. I’m going to age naturally.” Her friend nodded and they clinked glasses as she declared with a self-satisfied smile, “Me too. I’m never getting anything ‘done.’ Those women are pathetic and self-absorbed.”
First of all, ouch. Secondly, you’re twelve. Talk to me in 30 years. You have no credibility on this subject, so shut up.
There’s nothing inherently graceful about aging in a society that dismisses the elderly and worships youth. 50 is called a “senior citizen” in most restaurants, and quite frankly, if we died anytime thereafter, our kids would likely say, “Well, she had a good run.”
There’s nothing graceful about breasts that are within chatting distance of our navel, necessitating trading in our Victoria’s Secret “Come here, Big Guy” lace bra for a utilitarian cotton sports bra that shoves them back up to our rib cage and holds them tight so they won’t be mistaken for a fanny pack.
There’s nothing graceful about underarm waddle that rules out anything sleeveless unless we’re prepared to keep our arms pinned to our sides all day long. For days I forget that my triceps are unsuitable for public viewing, I now keep a burka in my trunk to toss over my tank tops.
There’s definitely nothing graceful about menopause that requires daily sheet changes because we sweat the equivalent of a kiddie pool every night in our sleep, or sticking our head out of the car window, hair blowing backwards and bugs in our teeth like the family Shih Tzu in a wind tunnel because it’s TOO FREAKIN’ HOT IN HERE.
There’s nothing graceful about gaining 10+ pounds in your sleep because your metabolism changed overnight without warning, often resulting in the bathroom scale being tossed out the nearest open window, immediately followed by a pity party that would make a 3-year-old jealous.
Middle age is about learning to navigate the fine line between wanting to look younger, instantly deeming us vain and shallow, or choosing to do nothing and let nature take its course, frequently described as “letting yourself go.”
At 57, my brain feels 40, but my body hasn’t found a decade it prefers. Sometimes I look in the mirror and my mother is staring back at me. My mother is a beautiful woman, and I’d be thrilled if she wasn’t 20 years older than me.
Yes, middle age brings with it a plethora of good and valuable qualities like serenity, patience, a better sense of humor (which God had the foresight to know we’d need), new priorities and epic, bucket list adventures. It also lets in the Shape Shifters. Invisible little seam-busters that quietly, but seemingly overnight, shift your proportions into a body shape you’ve never seen before.
Even if you manage to avoid the menopausal equivalent of the “Freshman 10” weight gain, you may arise one morning and discover that nothing fits. Your weight hasn’t changed, but dresses you wore yesterday, today you can’t zip up. Jeans you rocked for years now make you look like your favorite banana nut muffins from the local deli. Skinny jeans are out because of their now-striking resemblance to sausage casings on a Ball Park frank. WTH??
The morning I realized I’d been shape-shifted, I was standing in my walk-in closet wailing like the local Krispy Kreme shop had closed its doors, bringing Hubs running down the hall, assuming some tragedy had befallen me and I clearly needed his manly-manness to fix it.
“Are you okay??” he shouted as he got closer. “I’m fine,” I sniffled, “but I can’t wear these clothes. They’re all a size 8.” “But don’t you wear an 8?” he asked, looking confused in the absence of blood or anything requiring masculine intervention. “Apparently not anymore, “I said, “I grew.” “Well, why don’t you just buy a bigger size?” he asked with a proud smile, apparently believing he just uncovered the magic solution to an otherwise mysterious female woe. “Fine,” I replied, “You can take all these clothes to the Salvation Army, while I go to Nordstrom and replace them.” “Holy crap,” he stared at my closet. “ALL OF THEM??” “No,” I sighed, “just the size 8s. Oh, wait. Yeah, that would be all of them.”
In a gallant attempt to cheer me up, Hubs suggested we pursue alternate, less pricey solutions over wine and a bowl of guacamole at my favorite Mexican restaurant. As I stepped into his favorite date dress (the one I just wore a few weeks ago), I knew instinctively it wasn’t going to work. It made it slightly past my knees, then stopped, steadfastly refusing to go an inch further over my thighs and hips, no matter how I wiggled or maneuvered. Seriously??
Letting it fall to the ground, I then managed to kick it with enough velocity to send it sailing out the back door and into the neighbor’s herb garden, just as I burst into tears. Hubs walked up behind me, reaching around to my tummy, and whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I just love your little Buddha belly,” rubbing it with the enthusiasm of a 3-year-old who expected a genie to fly out and grant him a wish.
Tell me he did not just call any part of my body “Buddha.”
I responded with a muttered “Thanks,” because I’m reasonably certain he meant that to be a compliment, but my brain was screaming “May your camel get fleas, then sleep in your tent.”
So it appears that grace comes not from what happens as we age, and more about how we handle it. Aging gracefully is less about stalling the inevitable and largely about acceptance. Letting go of what you can’t control and finding the joy in the moment we’re living. Right here. Right now. Cosmetic intervention will slow down the physical appearance of aging, but in the end, this journey is largely emotional. Part of the process is learning how to be less judgmental and kinder to the people we love.
I’m learning that that includes me.
Welcome back, my dear. We have certainly missed you.
I’d clap my hands but my turkey twaddle and underarm ugliness would fly around too early in the morning to have to deal with! :-)
I’m 48 and starting to get glimmers of all the fun you have listed and was sort of hoping that I have experienced the worst of it. I’m now going to drown my sorrows in a cup of coffee!! Great to have you back!
Your story reminded me of an RN I once worked with before these things happened to me. She would say, I weigh the same that I did in college, it’s just in different places now. Fun story, thanks for sharing.
Glad you’re back! I think you need to write about envy next…you see, I have this friend that I saw over New Years. She’s the same age as me and all of a sudden she goes and loses all this weight and she looks amazing. I asked her if she lost the weight on purpose and she claims no – that it just sort of fell off when she started working at her new job. Meanwhile I’m battling that “freshman 10” you talk about. I’m completely envious and thinking I may need to go get a new job too to try to get my extra pounds to fall off like that. No fair I say!!
Oh yes! I can completely relate! Hubby & I are the same age. We dated for several years and married the year we turned 49. We were fit & trim & played a lot of tennis. Two years later, the Shape Shifters arrived & invaded our home. They are nasty villains with wicked super powers – but I think perhaps that their powers are limited. They seem to always go after the 50-something female in the house first. The shape-shifting effort on the female must take so much out of them that it drains their super powers because once they were finished with me, they left our home leaving hubby completely untouched. He’s as fit & trim as ever! Ugh! I much appreciate your excellent post, Vikki – especially your humorous spin on this sad situation and the reminder and encouragement to handle it gracefully. You’re amazing! :)
I agree that we MUST accept that we are going to look different and feel different as we age. It’s inevitable, no matter how much plastic surgery or botox. Having said that, there’s nothing quite as unnerving as when my husband says, “Well, I still think you’re beautiful” (emphasis on the I). Like he’s the only one.
I always think you look great, but I’m really starting to understand how hard it is to look like n the mirror and realize yet again you’re no longer twenty.
Would it be horrible for me to say I know how you feel at the age of 34 teetering on 35? I really don’t want to sound like one of those (horrible) 20 year olds but I’m so where you are. I recently had a meltdown of epic proportions because my dress size changed and my hubby told me to just go up a size. I looked at him like he had two heads. I went on rant that consisted of words like you’re an idiot and I kept the same body after having twins and NOW it wants to change WTH! My boobs currently look like flapjacks that I have to roll up and squeeze into my VS Wonderbra which is no longer wondrous. I’m at the point where mentally I don’t want to care but emotionally I do. Now I just want tog o eat something ha ha ha. Thanks for sharing this. : ) I can’t believe this is my first time to your site, I’m glad I finally dragged my big ole butt over here to say hello.
You are hilarious, LOL. I’m 58 so I’m right there with ya. Yes aging can be a menace. I just rejoined the gym with the hope that I can “lift up” certain parts of my nagging, sagging body. So far it’s done wonders for my eyes, just gazing at those 20 something year old fit young men, keeps me walking through the door, lol.
ACCEPT is my word for the year, but it can be hard going!
You’re back! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This made me laugh–not because our changing bodies are humorous, but because your sassy look at it all was so funny. “You’re twelve … so shut up.” LOL! Love it!
Are we Siamese twins? Yes- to ALL of the above. And as for those two 20-somethings… I just sit back and giggle because the boobies are dropping no matter what. Kids.
Yeah, I was one of those people who said I was going to age naturally. I still hope I have the courage to love myself the way I am in twenty years. As for the husband not getting it… I’m sad to hear my own still won’t get it in twenty years, either!!! Oh, men. ;-)
This is my second visit to your blog, Vikki, and I am dying of laughter this time as much as I did the first time round. I LOVE your perspective on the 20-something conversation, so typical!:) Menopause sounds miserable, but the image of you with your head hanging out of a car window with bugs in your teeth is priceless! Thank you for yet another awesome laugh!:)
Oh my dear….I so get this. The weight that appeared overnight with NO warning, rhyme or reason. And the arms…that makes me sad. I’ve been working with weights to tone my arms for years and it doesn’t seem to matter now….apparently they’ve decided they don’t want to be toned. But you’re right…it’s about grace through all of this. Thanks for always helping us get through it with a few laughs.
Unfortunately, I can relate. The muffin top is the most exasperating part for me. The rest I can camouflage and figure out ways to circumvent, but the damn muffin top is so annoying! I love all of this post, but especially your last 2 lines, very true.
Vikki, you have a way with words and a sassy attitude to boot. Love the post and midlife isn’t for weannies as we all know.
It is natural to age however we please. There may be a lot of holes in that logic but I’m sticking to it. It helps keep my self esteem afloat. Welcome back.
Thanks for clearing things up…I thought all of my clothes had shrunk while I was on vacation.
Oh my goodness was it good to see your blog name pop up in my inbox again.
I’m sure you’re more critical of your looks than you need to be. It sounds like you’re husband is telling you in his hilarious manner that you’re beautiful!
Happy New Year Vikki! True signs that our men loves us like crazy is when they start naming our body parts. ;)
This has got to be my favorite from you!! Maybe because we are the same age and can relate on so many levels….. Can’t wait to read this one to Mike when he gets home… and, I will be posting this on my wall…. I have a whole lot of 50 somethings that need a good laugh!! :-)
I woke up one morning a few years ago with someone else’s eyelids.
Other changes were subtle but I swear this happened overnight.
Apparently we have a lot in common! I love your sense of humor! I am about to turn 55 and experiencing just about everything you mentioned! Growing old is not easy! I do have one pet peeve about aging though. It bugs me when people who you know should have a whole head of gray hair have jet black hair instead. I vowed years ago that I never wanted to look like an old lady who was trying desperately to look younger, yet now that my hair is getting grayer and grayer I’m not so sure!!! I’m visiting from, I Don’t like Mondays. It’s nice to meet ya!
Great story that is oh so true. I like the line about learning to be kinder to yourself.
Your poor husband! Trying to so hard. I see much of my boyfriend in him. My poor boyfriend…
Welcome back Vikki and Happy New Year! You were definitely missed.
I will join your chorus of “Shut Up” to anyone who is skinny, or young who laments that they are getting fat, gained A Pound, or have love handles. People have mistaken my outcry as kidding. Are they ever wrong! When I say “Shut Up”, I mean right now, no more words of this nature.
10 pounds??? How about 22 pounds! Since I was thrown into medical menopause {removed the ovaries} my body has been holding onto fat like a toddler holds onto it’s favorite blanket! I could probably face jump without the suit if I hold my arms in just the right way.
I wouldn’t want to be 20 again…really. I was not too thrilled with 20. But I DO wish I had the ability to lose weight like I did back then.
Oh well…off to the gym.
LOL as usual :).
This is my first visit here, and I love your sense of humor! I completely identified with the sweating the equivalent of a kiddie pool. Just so relatable.
So fun to meet you today!
Ceil
I am 46 and starting to feel the effects of menopause and frankly it scares me! At least I know with you and the other Women of Midlife, I know I am not alone.
I’m in my 40s. As aging goes, it’s been a slap in the face (I can sum up my time in the gym these days by saying, “Welcome to the era of doing much more to achieve far less”), but I’m well aware (intellectually) of the frying-pan-over-the-head that awaits me in a decade or less. Yee-haw. Thank goodness we have posts like this to make us laugh!
As well as hilarious (as usual) there are some very astute observations in this post. As a 55-year-old male I can identify with the gist of your angst – (ok, I can hear you and all your female followers screaming ‘it’s different for men’ and I do, to some extent, accept this).
If it is any consolation (and it may not be) I do think that what men find attractive does change as they get older. Most males, even young bucks, find plastic/stick thin females less attractive than is often believed. As we get older, a wobbly arse and boobs that sag a bit seem intrinsic qualities of a ‘real woman’ and I, for one, find them visually appealing.
One thing is for sure and that is that our sense of humors improve as we mature – your blog is testament to that.
The thing that drives me up a wall – hearing someone say, “she’s pretty for her age”! Really? Well isn’t everyone freaking pretty for her age? A 5 year old is pretty, not as a 20 year old but as a 5 year old. Absolutely pisses me off!
Happy New Year Vikki! I have not aged as gracefully as I would like…it’s not even that I weigh that much more than I did in my twenties because I don’t, but it is in all the wrong spots. And that’s just the way it is. I’m over it. I love the way you put things – laughter is good medicine. Thanks for the chuckle this morning!
I WAS those 20-somethings and now I’m, well, eating my words (sheesh, wonder where those pounds will end up). Trying really hard to snark and vent my way through these changes. Just wish snarking and venting burned calories.
I’m hysterical — “holds them tight so they won’t be mistaken for a fanny pack” — now that’s funny! I used to say I’d never have “work” but not so sure now that I have the start of a turkey neck. I always thought that at least my shoes would still fit, but sadly, somehow they’ve gotten tighter, too!
Even though I’m 22, your posts always make me laugh. But I always feel so out of place in the comment’s section.
Hi Vikki, we’re new to your blog by way of mutual blogging buddy Meno~Mama. Luv the post!! & so true. The youth can talk that talk because they have age on their side. What’s that old saying? Youth is wasted on the youth… Would luv to talk to the in thirty years. No make that ten. I bet they would be singing a whole different song!! Look forward to stopping by & reading more of your posts.
I get the Buddha thing. I once had a boyfriend say that he loved my “little bitty boobs” after a friend had made fun of them for being small. And I got that he was trying to be sweet, but still…
Well, I remain naturally me, and after several attitude adjustment conversations with myself have finally accepted that my upper arms and my middle section prefer gravity over my good will. At age 67 I’ve noticed men experiencing the same shift changing phenomenon, so decided I still feel sexy (after all). At least, with men over the age of 60 I do. Not so sure if want to be a cougar, though.
I am past 60 and have experienced every bit of this. And you know what? I just don’t care. Take me as I am or get the hell out of my way. There is already too much on my plate for me to even worry about how I look. I look like I am over 60. Just like the good Lord intended
I will never forget my ‘shape-shifting’ moment – I got home from work, took my scrubs off and attempted to put my jeans on to meet a friend for dinner. I could not begin to squeeze them together. I burst into tears, cancelled on dinner and ate everything in the junk cupboard. Mama NEVER told me there would be days like that!!
YES. This: “Middle age is about learning to navigate the fine line between wanting to look younger, instantly deeming us vain and shallow, or choosing to do nothing and let nature take its course, frequently described as “letting yourself go.”
Great post, Vikki! (as usual…)
This. This is fantastic. HA!
Everything is finally explained! I thought my closet was shrinking my clothes. I was gonna get a new closet…
That Barbie graphic is worth its weight in gold. And acceptance? It’s everything. Nothing sadder than a woman who fails to accept with grace this part of life.
I have been staring longingly at the Botox ads lately!
“May your camel get fleas, then sleep in your tent.” I must use that!!!
My mom is 50 and I keep telling her that I’ll age gracefully.
She tells me the exact same thing!!
She says she wants to hear me say that when I’m 50 :P
Well, this is a relatable read…I turn 50 in 2weeks… it’s also an hilarious read… *giggles over morning coffee*… “Tell me he did not just call any part of my body, Buddha”… lol (I actually laughed out loud).
Fabulous post!