When I first met my friend, Louise, she was almost 80 and referred to all of her female friends as “girls” or “girlfriends” as in, “Let’s get the girls together for lunch.” The first time I heard that, I chuckled because most of Louise’s girlfriends hadn’t been girls in over 60 years.
At the time I was 35, and my contemporaries and I still thought of ourselves as invincible.
We were game for anything. We still had our uteruses intact; none of our husbands had died and facelifts were something we’d never do because the only woman we knew who’d had a facelift couldn’t shut her eyelids. She looked like a Chinese space alien with a thyroid problem, and if you’re wondering how she could’ve had bulging eyes that protruded from narrow eyelids, I don’t know, but she did.
Now that I’m older, I have women friends in their 90s—as well as women in their 20s—and like Louise, I call them all “girlfriends.” My girlfriends over 50 can identify with the effects of decreased estrogen like crepey skin—spellchecker keeps wanting to change it to “creepy… “ Okay. I’m not going to split thinning hairs over this… creepy skin and vaginas as dry as granny’s drawers.
While there are things worse than getting older—like not getting older—there are also things that scare me more than aging:
- Thin, tight, white pants.
- Realizing the scorpion on my sweater’s been there since I left home.
- Seeing a photo of me taken while I’m standing under a fluorescent light… wearing thin, tight, white pants.
- Being taken off a six-minute “hold” while I’ve decided to run to the loo.
- Understanding how crabby old women get that way.
- The nice guys I’m attracted to are either too young for me, married or dead.
- Telling a suspected Mafia Don I don’t want him as an investor.
- Feeling sorry for the one macaroni glued to the bottom of the box.
- My mother asking her cardiologist if the bra in her hand belonged to him.
- Handing my business partner tweezers to pluck her chin hairs before a board meeting.
I don’t know about your mother, but my mother never told me squat. She didn’t explain the birds and the bees or monthly periods. She didn’t tell me my father died–and I was 12 and living in the same house with her–or that she had a sister and two brothers. Why should I be surprised she didn’t tell me about creepy skin or that my neck would start to go before I was 50? At least she demonstrated what happens when you marry a man who’s too old for you. Now that’s really scary!
You made me laugh to start my day…loved the bra story…it helps to keep a sense of humor when dealing with dementia or the grief takes over. I so hope I age without it. And I never wear thin, white pants!
You’ll never have to worry about style faux pas, and let’s hope that goes for dementia as well. BTW, congrats on your new job! YES!!!
Oh, Brenda! You made me giggle and I do love that your friend Louise referred to her female friends as ‘girls’ and ‘girlfriends’ even at 80, and why not? Whilst we all (well, most of us) grow up, there’s still a girl inside each and every one of us and it scares me to think of ever losing her. Essie xx
Laughter and girlfriends/girlfriend… That’s what I want in Paris!
I love how I can count on you to have read my diary and then regurgitate my private thoughts in a way that makes me laugh until I cry instead of just cry. What scares me more than aging is finding myself seriously contemplating the idea of inviting “girlfriends” over for an evening of plucking one another’s chin hairs under the guise of doing makeovers.
Hopefully I’ll have done my chin hairs before we meet in Paris. That way, you won’t have to be embarrassed to be seen with me, or hand me a pair of tweezers. xoxox, Brenda
Oh man – ageing just gets better and better doesn’t it? 😛 I sometimes wonder why we only improve on the inside with age – I’d love to be improving on the outside too! And I never wear tight white pants – but if I do I’ll stay away from fluoro lighting!
I don’t know, Leanne…My mom just posted a photo of me in my early teens from 1974 on Facebook thinking it would brighten my day, and all I could think was, “Thank God for my 40’s and 50’s!” Now, I know how to dress better, do my makeup in the most flattering shades, and pay for a GREAT haircut. With age comes wisdom, and you can’t pay for that!
I don’t know about you, Val, but I started looking better after I left home. Mother chose my haircuts and my clothes and didn’t let me wear makeup. No wonder one of the guys I went to high school with thinks I look better now. He’d only seen the “before” version. xoxox, Brenda
GOD, yes!!! I recently received a FB message from one of the HS jocks that said, “Still a beauty!” and I almost choked on my wine…I didn’t think he knew I existed. Not that I give a damn now. Haha!
Let’s admit it… Yes, we give a damn, and didn’t his comment make you feel fabulous and give your ego a little boost? The real question is what does he look like now? Bald and dumpy?
Well, bald, heavier and fabulously wealthy! Haha!
Is he a nice guy and single? Send him my way!
I think he lives in Dallas! I KNOW he’s in Texas.
You’re right! “We” improve, the essence and the women we keep becoming get better and better, while the outside of us–me, I’ll just talk about me–needs a can of spackling compound, some primer and a new paint job.
This cracked me up! I may have to get older but, you can’t make me grow up. I’m eliminating white from my wardrobe now, for many reasons not the least of which is making my broadside look broader. And, I want to share a little secret with you…instead of tweezers get a Tinkle. I know, you’re like, wtf? Go on Amazon and search ‘Tinkle’ and you’ll see. I buy them in bulk and use them daily. Much less painful than tweezers.
Is this an April Fools joke, Barbara? 😉
A Tinkle looks more dangerous than a great razor. Not the little pink ones made for women, but the kind men use. I use it in the shower, and it’s fast and easy. I wrote a blog about it. https://1010parkplace.com/dermaplaning-a-needless-expensive-beauty-treatment/ Tinkle…. Wonder who named that? More to the point… Why did they name it that?
Too funny Brenda. And yep, I still call it getting together with the girls.
I didn’t realize it when I was 35, but inside, we’ll always feel like girls!
Thin white pants are a cruel hoax played on women by cheap manufacturers. Now the chin hair, I swear it’s a conspiracy. I draw them into my eyebrows and they grow out of my chin! WTF? Love your sense of humor.
Even thin white pants on young girls can be tricky. “…and they grow out of my chin!” LOL!!! Have you seen people on TV who can inhale a strand of cooked spaghetti and it comes out of their mouth? Perhaps there’s another hidden eyebrow/chin passageway we don’t know about.
Hilarious. I can no longer see anything that’s closer than 40 feet away. It’s shocking. Happened overnight. That scares me. I only wear white jeans. Thick, matronly ones: I have a pair of J Brands that are better suited for 20 year olds (or cheesecloth.) Thin pants are the devil.
You only wear white jeans? You’re either brave or have the body of a goddess! LOL!
Hysterical…love that orphaned macaroni! Susan http://www.themidlifefashionista.com
Oh I enjoyed this! Your website is gorgeous.
Oh so funny Brenda. I’m going to have to get rid of my favorite pants now…. sigh…
I know… Thin, tight, white pants are best on Twiggy! Have you ever looked at your backside under a florescent light in a pair of those? On second thought… don’t! xoxox, Brenda