I’ve recently realised something – I am not enjoying the process of growing older. Of age-ing. I thought I was soooooo together and sorted about getting older – when I turned 30 that is. And why the hell not? My body and skin and hair all still looked great! But I thought I was coping so well with getting older (leaving my 20s) and that women who freaked out about the passing years were just so superficial and didn’t get that inner beauty will always show on the outside etc etc etc…
Now I am about to turn 39. And here’s the thing, that makes me still 38 (for another week and a bit) and yet for the last 6 months I’ve been already thinking about being 40 and I’ve noticed that reading magazines and blog posts I already have started looking at the bits about women in their 40s when, hello, I’m not even 39 yet. What’s that all about? It’s not like I can’t wait for ‘life to begin at 40′ – hell no I’d rather stay younger and not so alive, thanks all the same.
My body and I have had a strange relationship. I have loved and disliked it, both of those, over the years. Disliked my tiny breasts and skinny calves, loved my flat tummy and my long neck, disliked my lack of a bodacious butt, loved the fact that I never had to worry about cellulite.
But now it’s turning on me. The bits I’ve never liked are no better (tho to be honest I do appreciate my breasts a lot more now as they don’t hang like my bustier friends’) but I no longer have the flat tummy, the beer I love to drink is now sitting all around my middle. My long neck is the part of me that shows my age the most now that the skin is no longer firm. And to make matters worse, my skin, which has never been terrible, the odd spot here and there, has decided to throw a nice patch of adult acne on my one cheek that won’t budge. Which really complements my ever increasing laugh and frown lines. I don’t think.
Recently I was out with some girl friends who are also in their 30s and I have to say I realised that I have become invisible. Both these other gorgeous women, though not perfect, were being their vivacious and sassy and cool selves, and there was I, thinking I was joining in, and then realised that if I stopped talking it made fuck all difference – no one (and by that I mean the men we were talking to) was listening to a word I said, or even looking my way.
It was a lonely feeling. The laughter died in my throat, the giggly tipsy feeling I’d been enjoying from the 3 beers I’d had instantly dried up – and I felt old, boring – and yes, invisible.
It doesn’t help that my man is a couple years younger than me and tho he’s not the hottie he once was I still find him gorgeous – but so do other, younger women. One in particular who has made it quite clear that she finds him very attractive, and takes every chance to talk to him, flirt with him – and completely ignore me – not even the briefest of eye flickers in my direction.
I have to give G credit though – he is always complimenting me, he calls me Beautiful all the time and I know that he still finds me attractive enough. But for how long?
That’s all there is to say in this post. I feel invisible at best, down right ugly at worst. That’s just where I am right now. And if I continue to feel this way it’s bound to affect my self esteem and with that my relationship with G. And to be honest I have no idea how to handle this feeling.