Sunday, December 2, 2007

The Dowager Diaries


Just when you realize how really cute you are, you're not.
This has been my experience, anyway.
I never really thought of myself as an exceptionally good-lookin' gal, but when I happen across old photos, I realize I wasn't hideous by any means. All my life I've been worried about my weight, unhappy with my nose, resigned to being that girl with glasses, too short, too short-waisted, not to mention not really having a waist, and so forth.
I have, though, always liked my legs.
When I hit my forties I really started working on things more seriously. And when I say working, I don't mean anything having to do with getting work done which is our modern euphemism for having our bodies and faces surgically altered in order to turn back the hands of time, or to be more realistic, the ravages of time, gravity, childbearing and God-given, self-perceived shortcomings.
No. I haven't gone that route for several reasons, some of them being expense, my neurotic fear of all things medical, and the realistic realization that no matter what you do, things are going to catch up with you. Get your face lifted and your butt's gonna fall. Get your butt lifted and your breasts look like something from the National Geographic Magazine. Get your breasts enhanced and lifted and you're still going to have that weird thing happening to your legs and arms where the bone and flesh seem to separate into two different entities and if you can do something about that, I don't know what it is so just give me some more bracelets and a pair of black tights. Okay?
I'm just pretty sure that this quest for a surgical solution to aging would never end.
So no, no surgery for me, thank you.
Instead, I have chosen to go with the old tried-and-trues: exercise, a good diet, etc.
And honestly, I think that I was better looking in my forties than I'd ever been in my life and despite a certain amount of face-crumpling, I was happy with the way I looked. I was even carded upon buying alcohol a few times into my forties and boy, did I feel like maybe I'd found the fountain of youth.
Well, I may have found it, but I have since lost my way.
Since entering my fifties, things are happening here that no amount of exercise or diet-watching are going to have much effect on. Seriously. Approximately overnight I went from being carded to being asked if I qualified for the senior citizen's discount and I have to tell you that when I do reach the age of the senior citizen's discount, it better amount to about 75 percent off to make the way I feel when I'm asked if I qualify worth it.
Now I'm not certainly not against the concept of aging and I'm not against the concept of aging gracefully, either, but I'm struggling with both of those things on a personal level.
Last night the husband and I went to one of those work-place Christmas office parties which was sort of a dreadful prospect to me on about fifty different levels, but getting ready for it was just a nightmare. I swear, not three months ago I could still muster up some belief in myself as a not-bad looking woman of a certain age who, despite that age, could and did look not so bad. But everything I put on last night either made me look like a fool or an aging dowager, although I am not completely certain what a dowager is, it was the word that kept coming to my mind.
A friend called and asked what I was doing and I said, "Trying to pick out a costume," which confused him because Halloween is long over. I tried to explain about the office party and said, "I feel like I'm trying to dress in drag," which was true, but still a little confusing.
I finally settled on a black dress with a black lace thing over it and I put my hair up and put on some make-up and I did, in fact, end up looking like a dowager. An aging, widowed dowager, perhaps. The red earrings didn't change a thing, but I put them on and said "To hell with it, like Popeye I am what I am," and slammed a rum and coke and went out the door.
Now the funny thing is, I've taped some pictures to my bathroom wall of some older women who sincerely look like they are not only completely happy with who they are, but also women who are absolutely beautiful and...dare I say this? sexy. They have gray hair but their eyes sparkle and they look like someone you'd want to talk with at a party. Someone you might want to flirt with at a party. Women whose lives are definitely not over in any way.
There are also four tiny pictures of Bill Murray in all his age-ravaged beauty, too, but I'm not here to discuss what happens to men when they age (and it's not fair!).
I put those pictures up to remind me that aging isn't necessarily all about becoming ugly or invisible or unimportant in any way. These women are not models. One of them is an artist and one a designer and although the pictures may be misleading, it would appear that they're having the times of their lives and are not afraid of sparkly eyeshadow.
Sometimes I am inspired by these pictures and feel completely okay about where I am in my life and in my looks. Sometimes, like last night, I am not.
But that's okay. I am quite certain that if I manage to live another twenty years, I'll look back at pictures of myself at the age I am now and think, "Good God, but what a beauty I was!" and I'll regret that I spent one moment doubting that.
That's the theory, anyway.

14 comments:

  1. Ms. Moon,

    We all get more beautiful as we age. You seen them pictures of me on my blog. I am livin' proof. I probably the best-looking chick around these parts. You gotta agree. Yep. Urrrrrrrppppp

    Now I want you to think about something. If you ended up looking like an aging, widowed dowager, then you a mess, honey. What "aging, widowed dowager" means is "an aging, widowed widow" or an "aging, dowager dowager." What you oughta do is just spell it all backward and make people scratch they heads and agree that it is indeed time for you to get the senior-citizen discount: gniga dewodiw regawod. It's just my job to tell people this stuff.

    What are you worried about, anyway? I can tell by your writing, and I can see from your self portrait, that you are a beautiful person, both inside and out. I'm sure that all who know you feel privileged, and all who meet you for the first time feel honored.

    And it's my job to tell you that, too.

    BFF,
    Miss T

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  2. I am blushing like a dewy bride, Ms. T. I swear I am.
    And I knew I should have looked up the word dowager. It can mean widow, yes, but also "an elderly woman of stately dignity, esp. one of elevated social position" (thank you, dictionary.com) and I am none of those things, albeit growing more elderly every day.
    Somehow though, I still feel dowagerly.
    I will now go and put YOUR picture up on my wall of inspiration, right next to Bill Murray. I hope you know what an honor that is.

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  3. Just put up a picture of me dressed as "Little Bo Peep" from the summer play up as well, and you'll feel beautiful every day.
    By the way, we need to get everyone together before this whole holiday thing is over...

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  4. Jon- I would so love to get together. Are you going to that New Year's Eve thing at MOH? I doubt we will. First off, we don't go out on NYE. Secondly, it's expensive.
    But it sounds sort of fun in a corny sort of way.

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  5. You and dad looked great Saturday! I was mighty happy you popped in.

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  6. I was mighty happy to come by, too.
    Lots of good hugs in a short amount of time.

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  7. Ms. Moon,

    Well, I reckon I'm the best-lookin' chick around here but I ain't the smartest, is I?

    Hehehehe.

    BFF,
    Miss T

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  8. Listen, Ms. T- I didn't even know that a dowager was a widow so there you go...
    You're still the smartest and that's all there is to it.
    I think I like the word dowager because it reminds me of "dowdy."
    Ya know what I'm talkin' about?

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  9. i can't tell you how many women i've seen in their 40's and 50's who i think look so much more beautiful now than they did when they were in their 20's and 30's. that includes celebrities and normal gals. i don't know what it is, but i look forward to it. we are all our own worst critic - that's for sure!!!

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  10. Ms. C! Where have you been? How was your Thanksgiving? Nice to see your...blogname!
    Yes, I agree with you about women and aging. Unless the woman is me. Then it's mostly cruel.

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  11. Some days I feel like a manatee, and some days I feel like a man. I don't even know if that makes any sense whatsoever. I guess what I am trying to say is that I can relate to your feelings. I wish I knew what else to say. I have heard you get more comfortable with your body as you get older, but I find myself being more picky. I think mainly because I am losing hair on top and getting it in places I would rather not.

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  12. Man or manatee. No, I do know what you mean.
    Funny, when I was much younger, I'd look at aging people and think, "Well, I'll certainly never let THAT happen."
    Where I thought I'd get the control to prevent these changes is beyond me. I was living in the sweet world of youth where my skin would always adhere to my flesh and my flesh would always be firm.
    Ah. Good times.

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  13. Boy do I know that 'dressing in drag' feeling (what a great way to describe it!). Well said, every bit of it.

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  14. Ms. A- you're too young to know yet the horrors that are in front of you. Okay, sort of kidding about the "horrors" but really, sometimes it is rather horrifying because so much of this stuff just happens overnight. You go to bed looking a certain way and you wake up and...WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS???!!!!
    Weird. Weird, weird, weird.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.