I typed this title and then thought, “Someday, the saga will end.” Well, that’s depressing. Hopefully, my saga will continue for a few more decades! Anyway, I had an epiphany, today, specifically regarding aging women. We are ALL aging once we reach a certain age (birth), but things start to accelerate once you hit, say…the forties. Right? You know: aches, pains, grey hairs (a.k.a., platinum highlights), lines, wrinkles, decreased metabolic rate due to losing muscle mass leading to fat weight gain (I still remember a few things from my college major), hearing loss, sight loss, sagging body parts, foot problems, dental problems, digestive problems, and so on and so forth. Geez, it sounds like the long list of side effects of a drug commercial, doesn’t it? Hopefully, we won’t experience all of these, but it’s just a fact of life that we will probably have many of them. Obviously, genetics have some say, as well as our lifetime health habits and environments we live in, jobs, etc.. Hopefully, we take care of ourselves as best we can and age well, as a result, especially in areas of health, if not looks. Of course, if we can’t see each other because our eyesight is failing, maybe looks won’t matter? And if our hearing fails, we won’t hear others laughing at us, so who gives a rip? Besides, another sign of aging is not caring what others think about us, anyway. Or is that a sign of wisdom? I digress.
Today, we went to my favorite wine store where so much more than just wine is sold, including readers. Reading glasses. Yeah, those. I have several pairs, all of which are $10 or less drugstore or Walmart purchases. I reached the second magnification, going from +1.0 to +1.5, this past year. I use the +1.0’s, occasionally, just because I still can–with some things. The +1.5’s I got, however, are so cheapo that even though I like one of them very much, the lenses seem to smudge up, spontaneously. Ridiculous. As if we don’t have enough problems seeing things, that we have to add in smudgy lenses. Every time I realize how dirty my glasses are, I feel a twinge of guilt as I remember gently teasing my Dad about how dirty his glasses were and how could he even see out of them. Ah, foolish youth that I was–I get it, now! Yes, I see!
So I bought another pair of reading glasses at my wine store. Red ones. In a red fabric pouch. They sorta clash with my iPhone case which is…teal. Both are very vivid and I think both are kinda cool, especially my new, red readers. The added benefit is that they are so bright that I won’t lose them, easily. I hope. I previously had a black iPhone case and was forever looking for it, often finding it laying on something dark or in the shadows. (Ironically, my son and my Southern Man each have a camouflage iPhone case and never have problems seeing them.) I’ve also had dark readers and they would blend in with many surfaces I’d set them on. I shan’t have that problem, anymore! And that’s when I had my epiphany.
Do you ever notice how many old..er women wear such bright colors? Fashion experts would have you believe that it brightens up the complexion and so on, but I think there’s another reason: it’s MUCH easier for our old friends to see us. I mean how can you miss someone wearing a bright, red hat? Or a purple dress? Or both? I’m not saying that I will ever be mistaken for someone in the Red Hat Society, but I guess it’s a possibility. After all, I have my red readers. And teal phone case. Where will I go from here? Only time will tell.
Speaking of eyesight, I put my other, silvery readers on a few days ago, while I was waiting to pick my daughter up from school, and looked in the car mirror. Dang! One of the things I didn’t address in the laundry list of side effects of aging was about hair. Men lose hair off of their heads and gain it in their noses, on their ears, and back, so I have observed. Women, meanwhile, grow a goatee. Of boar bristles. And some are white and blend in, becoming invisible to the naked eye, especially when your eyesight is no longer perfect. I have repeatedly asked my daughter and Southern Man that if they ever see a hair on my chinny-chin-chin, please tell me. It’s like when you get a piece of food stuck in your teeth or a smudge on your face or a stalactite hanging from your nostril: tell the poor, unsuspecting soul. Maybe if they’re really old, they won’t care, but I’m not there, yet, and am probably just slightly too vain to ever reach that point. Well, after looking at myself in the car mirror in the bright daylight, with my +1.5 readers on, I decided that it is time to buy a lighted, magnifying make-up mirror. You know the kind. You see them in Target and Bed, Bath, and Beyoooooonnnd. They’re the ones you are drawn to like a moth to a flame, then recoil in horror because the pores on your nose are huge, dark caverns and your freckles look like age spots and your eyebrows look like they haven’t been tweezed in months. Then there’s the rogue chin hairs. (However, your eyelashes are gloriously long and thick.)
In the past, as in earlier today, if you were to see me rubbing my chin as if in deep thought, I was actually feeling for those dastardly quills. Starting tomorrow, I shall not need to resort to such measures, because I will probably end up waxing my entire face after seeing what I look like in my new, 10x magnification, halogen-lit, make-up mirror. Also, it will help when I apply make-up so I won’t end up looking like a clown. Bright colors on older women are for the clothing and accessories, not the face. Not everyone has gotten that memo, it seems.
It is late, I am tired, and have been somewhat silly. Hopefully, you got a chuckle or two and aren’t grossed out by the thought of old, bearded women or nervous at the prospect of growing old, yourself. It happens, you know. Try to do it gracefully and with a sense of humour!