Our society can suck it when it comes to–GASP!!–that dirty, foul topic of aging. Really, media and corporations hawking beauty products attempt to badger especially us females into feeling distinctly “less than” as we age. For many of us, add that societal beast of burden to losing our loved ones, the boring task of saving for retirement (yawn!), and for chicks, the specter of impending menstrual cessation–then no one is ready to throw a sassy party because the years are ticking by. ( I personally celebrate and gaily anticipate the demise of my menses, but I know many women want it to remain forever. Gah!)
But me. I shall wage a one woman party, nay, festival, of aging on this my 48th year of springing energetically from my mumsy’s baby maker. Here is what I think is just kick ass about it! And in no particular order.
1. My fear of being deemed weird has diminished to the point that it is virtually nonexistent. I have been “different” my entire life. I am creative in my own weird way, just as all creative creatures are. We do what we do because it is what is floating around in our gray matter. And some find it…..odd. Interesting, perhaps disturbing to a certain degree. Yeah, well, hmmm. My response to all my former neurosis about my uniqueness can be summed up in one simple word: “whatever.”
2. I accept my body more. I mean, dang, it has toted my soul around all these years, given me so much pleasure being athletic and snarfing chocolate…..cut it some slack, sister!!! I have a Buddha belly. I look pretty much the same in a bikini now as I did as a toddler with my gut jutting out like a separate entity–except I now have fun bags and hips. My nose. That bastion of wretchedness, so I thought in my teens, no longer bothers me. It breathes. It sneezes. It sniffs glorious fragrances. I am happy it is attached to my face; it hasn’t been demolished surgically like cousin Rufine’s because she lallygagged endlessly in the California sun and procured some cancer on her schnoz. Eh, but that is a story for another day.
3. I don’t worry about money and my fart-inducing pile of student loans nearly as much as I used to. I realize I could easily be dead tomorrow–wack jobs killing people with guns as they sit in churches and movie theaters are just a dime a dozen any more. 7 people in my graduating class from high school are dead. I am lucky to be here. Why spend what could be the last day of my life fretting over that pile of debt or wondering if I will have enough money for Depends when I am 90? What a plumb silly waste of my neurons!!!
4. I realize that those I love dearly who have passed into the Spirit world really aren’t that far away at all. Being a medium, I can still converse with them. Our relationships continue. They are merely different.
5. I speak my mind. Nicely, but I no longer do things that are expected of me, or do what I “should” do unless it involves my mumsy. I have learned and embraced the power of the word no.
Well, damn, I lied. I have one more. The most bitchin’ thing about aging is that I just flat out really do love and accept myself. And the best thing about it is feeling that way about myself enables me to feel that way about so many others! When you love yourself, it is so much easier, if not impossible NOT to, love and care for others from the bottom of the heart.
And if that isn’t worth the price of a few wrinkles and a nonexistent metabolism, then I don’t know what is.