Three posts in one day! What?!?! We will just say I had some time to myself last night to ruminate, and for whatever reason between the wee hours of 1 am to 4am- these were some of my thoughts. So, clutch the pearls, Ethel- this may be a long one!
(Cliche or not- love this TIMELESS phrase. I will use it until I am clutching mine in my cold, dead fingers! Well, If I had any pearls I would. A Phrase can be a plague? How is Clutch the Pearls a plague? I know, once again I am WAY off tangent! All because of a photo that led to an article that irked me. I should probably look into ADHD meds. Meh. Who am I kidding? I enjoy being “abstract”. Distracted/abstract- tomato, potato.)
ANYWAY- back on track! (Shake head, mentally slap cheeks)
I have noticed that as time mercilessly drags it’s cleated feet across my face, forcing a road map of wrinkles in places that were once smooth and appealing, that my sensitivities are a bit more, well MORE. Things that used to not put a hitch in my step are now down right demoralizing.
Take bathing suit shopping. It is nearing the end of January here in Phoenix, so the swimsuits have already been out for a month. If you don’t hurry up- all the good ones are gone by February.
Notice how these are all adorable? Well, that is because they are bikinis. Those that can wear these and look good in them, have no issues. For those of us that are no longer twenty and/or don’t have abs of steel, the options are a bit more limited. Don’t get me wrong. I will subject myself to the torture that is trying them on this year. I will have all of the normal self-loathing- VS- self motivational internal disputes. Phrases like “This doesn’t look too terrible. Women are supposed to have curves” will be muttered, then answered lightning quick in my head with “If by curves you mean lumps and stretch marks, then sure! Looks great!”. The age old debate of “When exactly is it that a woman is officially too old/fat/lumpy to wear a bikini?” will rage on. Where are these laws written, and do I even care if it is a “thing”? If my hubby still seems to find me attractive, and I am brave enough to wear it anyway, should I? Damn it! I like bikinis! They are just easier to fit and operate. And they are cute.
Some women swear by the one piece. They are adamant that they are just as cute, and feminine- but I have never found one I like. Big in the bust, small in the rear and roundish in between has not been an easy fit to find. Plus, some of the pieces are atrocious. Even for a “mature woman”. I am pretty sure these have been designed by Dads that want their daughters to remain virginal into their 90’s.
However, If you read The Curvy Fashionista , she has found some fairly adorable one pieces, and breaks them down by body type. But I am still not sold. We shall see when I make the decision to completely depress myself how it all shakes out this year. Bathing suit shopping has never reduced me to a full-blown crying jag- but it does depress the living shit out of me. Every. Damn. Time.
The absolutely most soul-crushing time was when I got the bright idea to ask my gay buddy who is much more fashion conscious than me (OK, so EVERYONE is. Shut it.) to go along for moral support and to help me pick out a suit. This was in 2007 and I had been working out like a fiend, so thought it would be FUN to shop for a bikini to wear down in Rocky Point. HA. So not fun! That trip was so hard on my self esteem that I actually have to block it out. Shudder!
Then there is “regular” clothes shopping. For me this is the absolute pinnacle of awareness that I lack “the girl gene”. I have the hardest time matching clothes, finding the right styles that are flattering or in style. Many is the time I have wandered the whole damned mall, tried on countless outfits and left in complete and utter defeat. You either have to be ready to dress like your Grandma, or dress like that “older woman that is trying to look twenty and not succeeding”. Why the hell aren’t there clothes for the 30-50 year old bracket?!? A lot of the things the “juniors” wear are cute- so why are they all slim or hoochie fit? It is completely demoralizing. But, for some reason I can find work clothes just fine. Go figure.
Let’s also not forget today’s twenty something’s. You know, those completely irritating little chits that will just sashay through the open door that your hubby held for her rude-ass, while she chirps away on her cell phone with genius lines such as, “Oh, Bae! That’s so cray!”. Phrases that make normal thinking adults want to rest his/her chin on a pre-loaded hair-trigger shotgun rather than hear the rest of her hair-brained drivel. Not once taking a second to extend the courtesy of a “thank you” to the door opener for his kindness. It’s a good thing that Jim is more genteel than I am. Because he refuses to hit these bitches in the ass with the door. It’s a long-standing grievance between us.
I am not saying that all of today’s young women do this, but so many do. Which makes them rude and discourteous bitches. I feel the same way about men that don’t say thank you, so this is not a sexist or sex specific rant. Common courtesy dictates that if a man (or a woman) holds the door open for you, you in turn thank them. More often than not all I see are ASSHOLES that bustle past, no nod. Definitely no “Thanks” and usually just have this “Princess entitlement” air (goes for dudes too). They seem to be so extremely self-involved that they think all should hold the doors open for them as this is their due, and you (peasant) do not deserve the courtesy of a thank you because they are that much better than you and everyone else here. Barf. Gag. Then again, they could just be so absorbed in technology that they assume all doors are automatic. I wish more of them would walk into said doors, and on camera.
But, knowing how men operate, I must assume Jimmy continues to be nice and hold doors so that he, the hubby, can continue to notice those hot, young nubiles and promptly load up the spank bank. Not that he would EVER admit this, or get caught -as he knows it would result in swift, and brutal death, but I digress.
Then there is the woeful fact that I have started to quibble over semantics. Sorry, but the jump from “Miss” to “Ma’am” has been a tough one. Especially when the one calling you Ma’am is close to your age or older.
Lastly, let’s not forget that there are entire magazines, creams, lotions and vitamins dedicated to “mature women” and “mature skin”. This always makes me a bit sad, and also triggers mad-research. Because you just never know when that magic cream, pill or recipe in RedBook is TRUE. What? It can happen. Technology grows by leaps and bounds every day.