Halloween is a favorite holiday for many people, but for me, it’s…okay. I think I’ve only been to two or three Halloween parties in my life (maybe more when I was a young child). I just don’t like all the candy that we feel we “must” eat because it’s…well…it’s Halloween. My hips and thighs love it. My double chin…not so much.
This past Halloween, I was home alone watching “Halloween H20” (probably not a good combination), and handing out candy to the few kids who did come to the door. When children came, I would hand out the candy, comment on their costumes, and maybe joke around with them a little bit, depending on their ages. A group of four came to the door, and knowing a couple of the high school kids, I kidded with them. Before leaving, I heard the one saying something about my being “the nicest old lady.” Huh? Old lady? This both shocked and amused me. At what point did I become an old lady? I am currently, um, middle aged, and definitely do NOT consider myself to be an old lady.
As I pondered his statement, I remembered that when I was young, people in their middle age were considered to be old. At least to us. After giving myself a good talking to, I was able to talk myself down into not taking it too personally.
They say something along the lines that that 50 is the new 40, 40 the new 30, and so on. We’re only as young or old as we feel. We older people can feel really young, possibly even in our 20’s, and the only thing that gives it away is our body. They don’t always work the way they used to. We’re not as fast, limber, or spry as we were in our whippersnapper years. (Oh, my. Just using the word whippersnapper gives me away.) Parts of our body start sagging where we didn’t know they could sag. Our knees argue with us as we try to bend down. I always say that the older you get, the farther down it is to get to the ground. It becomes harder to reach our toenails to trim them. And wrinkles appear where we didn’t know we could get wrinkles. I’m proud of my crow’s feet. They give me character. Problem is, my crows keep getting more feet.
Personally, I don’t believe in age. If Einstein proved that there is no such thing as time, then there’s no such thing as age. Besides, I refuse to be identified by a number, whether it’s my age or my weight. Time is just something man made up to keep track of…well…time. If we didn’t have time, would we even know how old we were?
Men grow into themselves. They can grow older, get the wrinkles, put on some pounds, become bald, and they can still be dapper and dignified. Women are expected to stay young with youthful bodies, and if we get a wrinkle or a drop of cellulite anywhere…heaven forbid!
Women (and some men) have also resorted to injecting a life-threatening toxin called Botox into their faces to try to keep wrinkles away. Since when did this become an accepted form of wrinkle treatment and how on earth did it get approved? According to the CDC, “Symptoms of botulism include double vision, blurred vision, drooping eyelids, slurred speech, difficulty swallowing, dry mouth, and muscle weakness that moves down the body, usually affecting the shoulders first, then the upper arms, lower arms, thighs, calves, etc. Paralysis of breathing muscles can cause a person to stop breathing and die, unless assistance with breathing (mechanical ventilation) is provided.” I don’t care how miniscule an amount they use, I do not want ANY toxin injected into me. What are we thinking?!?!
Getting older. We can’t avoid it. It’s inevitable. There are many good things that come with getting older. We become wiser. We have a wealth of experience to pass on to the younger generations. Our children may be our future, but we are our history. Let’s learn to embrace getting older with high esteem and class. We are unique. We are magnificent. And we should give ourselves a lot of credit for making it this far. Especially if we can have a sense of humor about it all.
So, as I go about my days, still trying to find that youthful serum that may make me look at least a few weeks younger, I will continue to work on myself and to accept the fact that in some eye’s, I have become….an old lady.