Aging Gracefully–Might as Well

Today I got my panties in a wad because the clerk at a department store asked me if I was over 50. This particular store gives a “senior” discount to anyone over 50 on Mondays. I’m 43.

Let me emphasize that I know 50 isn’t old and when I look at other women I don’t think, “Oh, gross. She’s ancient.” But since this is the third time this has happened to me in this store, I’m really beating myself up about not looking more youthful. I have a friend who has two grandchildren and she looks like she’s 25, no lie! My mother looks like my younger sister. So, it’s really me I’m mad at, not the ladies in that store. Well, maybe a little at them because…how dare they?

I see so many women who are beautiful at 50, 60, and 70. And they’re not the ones who spend hours at the salon, have had mucho plastic surgery, or apply makeup, like drywall, every 15 minutes. The ones I think are beautiful are very natural looking, not too prissy. They might wear a pair of jeans and a casual, classic button-up blouse (sleeves  rolled up) with a nice pair of flats, sparse but tasteful jewelry, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail with a nice barrette. I’ve seen women with completely silver hair and said, “Wow! If I can look like that, I can’t wait to get older!”

I’m not afraid of losing my youth because I never was a beauty queen to begin with and I’m glad of it. It must be horrible to deal with losing the kind of physical perfection I’ve seen in some people. I always wonder about stunners like Cindy Crawford and Christie Brinkley. To us, they don’t seem to age at all but I wonder if they freak out with every new wrinkle and sag. How anticlimactic for them! What pressure!

I suspect that the two of them have developed enough other aspects of themselves to be okay with aging and, certainly, they’ve kept themselves in the best shape possible for doing it gracefully. I, however, have some work to do there.

In thinking about this today, I realized something. The women I see and admire are ones who have clear, healthy complexions and the lines they’ve earned are not the least bit unattractive. Now that I’m older, I know each line has a story and on certain women they’re noble accessories, life’s badges of honor. I wonder what hand these women have been dealt and how they got through the trials we all have to endure.

They always have a quiet beauty, a resilliant glow, and the word balance comes to mind. They aren’t the uptight, frenzied, controlling, spastic, rowdy or angry types. I picture them doing yoga, gardening, writing, taking pictures of wildlife, volunteering and loving their families. And, I picture them laughing a lot.

The older I get, the more interesting women I meet. I look at every one as a treasure with wisdom, compassion, and humor to share. I’m glad I got to live long enough to experience that and to see the crow’s feet around my own eyes. I would’ve preferred it if my crows had done ballet instead of Irish tap but who’s complaining?

In seven years I’ll be able to get my discount and, meanwhile, I’m newly committed to taking vitamins, eating healthier, continuing to exercise, trying to be calmer through meditation and reflection. I’ll continue to work hard on my spiritual side because, all cliches aside, that inner part of us really does appear externally. I’ll enjoy my hobbies and interests, finding new ones along the way. But I won’t plow through them at breakneck speed like I’ve always done. I have to remember that it’s the journey, not the destination. And if I’m very lucky I’ll live long enough to be one of those women.

Until then…I’m either staying out of Bealls Department Store on Mondays or demanding a discount just because they had to ask.