We camouflage ourselves from “outside life.” We try to live in order to forget about death. Dan's Aunt Dot died last week at 97. She was fairly healthy up to her early nineties. Then she moved near her daughter but not with her daughter. And I wonder why. Her last weeks were anxious and at times delirious. It is these downhill weeks that are discussed rather than the whole of the years before. Aging is scary. No one wants to get old. Dan's mother tells us, “Please shoot me if I get like Dot.” But Dot led an amazingly active life until her aging caught up with her. I don't want to lose my mind. I say I want to be aware and yet I can understand the need to escape the inevitable end.
I love when poets, artists, philosophers tell us to tune into and appreciate what we have now. Do I have all I need where I am at this ticking away moment? In the present I have no need for worry and anxiety because the unknown future is a ways out in front of me. In the present I have my mind, my dear husband, my friends, my garden, my home. In the present I can write and read, sing and walk whenever I want. So yes, I do have everything I need. With each passing day I am getting older, but with each passing day I am learning to accept my aging.
The mirror lies. Why I trust this mirror to reflect my true story is puzzling. I notice my face appears younger, the happier I feel. Cats constantly groom themselves. Birds pluck and preen their feathers. Gorillas groom each other. I have wanted for so long to go beyond the vanity and ego of appearance. We want to be seen and yet, most people see only themselves. I think my desire goes beyond the superficial. But in America we revere the surface. I want to be acknowledged and understood; I want to be appreciated. But isn't this true for most of us?
I watch young teen boys attending our alternative neighborhood high school skateboarding and smoking near my house. They want to be cool. One kid smokes, pauses, straightens his backpack, smokes. He waits. He wants to be later to school than the rest. We time our daily activities to coincide with what's in fashion. Being hip, however, is taking away our authenticity.
My dear husband tells me I am thoroughly authentic. He says I can't help but be myself. This need to be honest and open has gotten me in plenty of trouble. My outsider status is a badge worn proudly but can be a scarlet O. For I have trouble being honest with myself. The mirror's truth is I do want to be an insider. Do I want recognized fame and fortune? Perhaps, just a little.
I am running around the circle of present time. My aging face and body is here to stay. I don't want to be sculpted anew. I don't want my face to be lifted. I don't want my beautiful silver hair to return to black. I have been afraid to die and I know I am afraid to get old. I truly don't want more wrinkles, but I don't want to deny who I am either. Am I stupid or brave to go against make-up and fashion? I remember trying make-up in junior high. I didn't have the skill or patience then. I discovered in my sixties that outlining my eyes gives me a brighter appearance and so I have given in. But my lips are too narrow for lipstick and though continually searching for the right haircut for thinning hair, my silver white hair has grown on me.
Ingrained in our American culture is that we women are never satisfied with how we look. Not even the most beautiful feels comfortable in her skin. I have asked many gorgeous women if they know they are beautiful and most do not. If only they knew how lucky they are. Or is it lucky? We can never understand someone else from the outside and getting to the inside can be a challenge. I talk freely about beauty and aging. I talk freely about my death and aging fears. And this is what I believe is needed: a voice given, honest words written about each stage of this living progression. I want aging women to not always be staring into their closets. I want them to come out.
© 2012
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