Not Quite Sold on Gettin' Old.
When my maternal grandmother was alive, I used to go to her home in San Diego for visits as a child. I remember sitting on the edge of her jetted tub in the bathroom, swinging my feet, watching her getting ready for the day. She stood about 5’1” in her bathrobe, applying creams and makeup, and teasing her salt-and-gray hair into a permed dandelion on top of her head. One day I asked her, “Grandma? Is it weird that you used to be young?” (See, I’ve been putting my foot in my mouth since childhood, what can I say?)
A big smile came upon her Lancôme-Moisturized face. “Oh, yeah!” she giggled. “Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder ‘Who’s that old lady is staring back at me?’ Other days, I catch a glimpse of myself getting dressed in the mirror and think, ‘What the hell happened’?” Then she threw her head back and laughed, cackled actually. I so appreciated that honesty, even as a kid.
I recently turned 39. Another year, another birthday, another flip of the calendar which seems to be happening at a frightening pace. I have a September birthday, which meant that I was always young for my class in school. I started college when I was 17, and I graduated at age 21. Married at barely 22 and had my first baby at 23. In the social circles I was in at the time, I was young for all of those life stages. “You’re just a baby yourself!” Mothers in mothers’ groups would say. Gradually I became accustomed to thinking I was young, and so milestone birthdays like age 30 and the next big one (AKA “the number that shall not be mentioned”) coming up next year, are a bit shocking and disconcerting for me. The impending 4-0 has really snuck up on me.
I remember when my mom turned 40, I was in the 6th grade at the time. My dad threw her a surprise party, and although it was a joyous occasion, I remember this weird foreboding rolling around in my brain that my mom possibly had a foot in the grave. Back then there were “Over the Hill” plates and party decorations, and gravestones with the number that shall not be mentioned on them. Gifts of Geritol, Centrum Silver, and Adult Diapers were bequeathed to my radiant mother. Merriment and laughter roared throughout the evening as these seemingly “old” adults (old to me, anyway) made fun of aging and enjoyed the connection of going through that process together.
When I was pregnant with my first baby, I remember moms who already had children telling me things like: “Just wait… your body becomes this birthing machine. And you won’t care. 1,000 people could be in the room checking between you’re a$$ cheeks for hemorrhoids after the birth and it’s like, ‘whatever.’” I was horrified. But it was true. And when it was over, I laughed about it.
Now those same mothers, who are a little ahead of me in this aging thing are saying phrases to me like “hormone replacement therapy”, “varicose veins”, “hot flashes” and other phrases that make me feel sweaty and faint just typing them. But you know what? I survived birthing babies. Many times over. I survived the goopy, saggy, depressive phases that came afterwards. And so there’s no need to future trip…when it’s time, I assume I’ll survive menopause too. And hopefully I’ll laugh about it.
Now what about those women who legitimately do not care about aging? Man, where does that come from?!?! I get that no one who is in their late thirties would choose to go back to the lack of wisdom and insight that begins to come through life experience as we age, but I truly, from the bottom of my heart, admire those who truly mean it when they say “Age is just a number!” and “Stretch marks are my war wounds!” and “My wrinkles are just a sign of a life well-lived!” Maybe that will come for me, in time. I hope so.
I definitely believe these sayings to be true in theory, but I’d be lying if I said I currently truly feel and embrace, and mostly live-out those words. I am amazed by people who genuinely have that authentic “Yay for Aging” attitude, that elusive high level of self confidence. For me, I can accept that I’m aging (as if I have a choice anyway), but I can tell you that I do not enjoy that my birthday cake these days looks like a small campfire inferno. I hate, with a passion, florescent lighting in fitting rooms and doctors’ offices. I don’t care to look in the magnified mirror and finding another line that really should have a little Botox injection. I don’t like that I have to scroll down on a drop-down window for about 2 minutes to find “1976” when I need to input my birthdate on an online form….. Heck no, I personally don’t like these things one bit.
But what gets me every time I get discouraged about my age? What do I currently guess that partially at least, the key might be? At least for now, at least for me? The laughter. I think of my grandmother’s laughter about her “old lady” appearance. I think of my mom’s surprise party and her lovely friends who joked and laughed about aging. I laugh when I think of the many sweet nurses who have had to check between my a$$ cheeks for postpartum hemorrhoids, 6 soon to be 7 births over.
For aging is just a great equalizer, in my mind. After all, you can’t get one without the other…yoga, and just living thus far, have taught me that. It’s the yin and the yang, it’s the rose with the thorn, whatever you want to call it. Unfortunately it seems you don’t get both the gifts of the wisdom and the insight AND the ageless body. Bummer, but true.
As long as we have breath in our lungs, there is no escaping aging. So instead of wishing it away, my hope, my dream and what I believe to be true for me is the possibility that I will embrace the laughter about aging…. The joy of the journey. Staying in the moment. And thankfully we don’t face it alone. We have our fellow sojourners to come along side us, age with us, and laugh with us. Those who were born before us are further down the path than we are, some who were born after us trickle behind. But we are shoulder to shoulder on the journey of aging. We can celebrate who we are today; what we’re learning today. The joys that come with each stage of life. What truths have revealed themselves to us thus far, and how we can be open-minded to those truths changing for us as we travel this life. We have much to learn from one another as we travel this path together, together but separately. And most importantly, we have much laughter to share together.
Growing Old Alongside You,
A-Team Mom
XOXO
