Today was well, a bust…a few hours off, I thought I’ll pick up a few sweaters at the mall. First, I needed to eat…glancing around for something delicious and not too lethal, I chose, macaroni and cheese pizza. What can I say, I was hungry.
On to the sweater hunt: I envisioned some short, cropped, plain things with maybe a tiny bit of flare. All I found were long sweaters with lots of gold lame intertwined.
Long sweaters make me look older and shorter than I like. In fact, it feels like everything makes me look older and shorter and well, fa than I want to.
And that is where reality hits…how to fit into my new culture, the over 50 set. I am looking for role models and not having a whole heck of a lot of luck. The Hollywood gals are hitting the Botox and in a Google search for role models over 50, I saw 10 women who are keeping their Olympiad bodies no matter what!
I want to find those women, like me, who are struggling, but living well, with the whole gaining shrinking thing. Graceful, laughing women…the Judi Dench’s of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. It is hard to do. But I’m looking…
- I thought Hillary Clinton made a nice comeback recently, rested, loosing the ponytail, she might still be President one day.
- I loved Nora Ephron, I’m keeping her on my role model list forever. She laughed about aging and she looked graceful doing it, but she laid it bare in her last two books. She finally demystified for me all the various names for the shapes our necks can take in I Feel Bad About My Neck.
- My Aunt did a pretty good job of aging, I never thought she would. At about 83, she said somebody should write a book on aging, it sure ain’t for sissys, was the title she suggested. She’s almost 90 now.
- My friend Jean, she is a role model, I think she is about 85 and two years ago wrote me in her holiday card…I haven’t slowed down and I don’t intend to.
- My Aunt Floss, gone now, she was a good role model: up to her dying day, I could hear her say…there ain’t an old maid in this country who has had as good a life as me.
And so it goes, the role model search for aging. I didn’t realize I needed one. When the gold lame glittered back at me in mirror after mirror today, it hit me I need clothes and the corresponding people that speak to me about how in heck I’m to do this whole graceful aging thing.