looking good

Well, some things about getting older are absolutely fun. I just went to return my neighbor’s garage door opener, and he met me at the door in his boxers and T-shirt. The boxers had bright blue circles on them (and my neighbor is thinner than I thought). He wore a patch over the eye that has a glass eyeball in it to rest it, he told me. I can understand that. Let me add that I walked over braless, in a baggy dress and shirt, sunburned a vivid pink with hair upstyled by a day at the beach. (My husband and I added a tarp to his truck and sat on the beach like trailer trash.) My husband has taken to wearing kerchiefs and soft cap things to protect his balding head. Today he had on a blue cylinder of cloth made by National Geographic (proudly I was told this) that could be pulled over his face like a mask or pushed back and tucked in, as it was. He looked like an Aryan extra on a Pirates of the Caribbean shoot (see Johnny Depp). I no longer wear a bra. Refuse to, though I am–how shall I put this– abundantly endowed. I don’t care what Oprah advises, I’m not doing it anymore. It’s like armor at my age. And may I add (don’t read the rest of this if you’re visually sensitive), one of the girls hangs lower than the other. Last week, I walked out to get the paper, saw a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile and proceeded to talk with her for thirty minutes in an old T-shirt and pajama bottoms as the world drove by on its way to work. As Rhett said to Scarlett (let me know how many of you have no idea what this refers to), “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”  I don’t. And apparently, others feel the same. That’s fun.

What don’t you give a damn about anymore? I hope there’s something…

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8 responses to “looking good

  1. Joyce Boatright

    You had me laughing at “boxers”… by the time I got to “one of the girls hangs lower,” I had to upright my chair and get up off the floor where I was LMAO. You have such a bawdy sense of humor… love it, love it, love it!

  2. judith schara caldwell

    Karleen, Being of a certain age I loved this post. Priorities change, the list of what one must have to be presentable shrinks . Women have a hard time standing up against the cultural expectations – dye your hair, always wear makeup, try to fool everyone into thinking you are at least 20 years younger than you really are, and on and on. No one wants to look at an older woman. We become invisible. But
    maybe writers have an easier time. We’re expected to be somewhat “eccentric” Thanks for your wonderful comments.
    Judith Schara Caldwell
    work in progress, SPIRAL, a timeslip novel of Iron Age England and
    the current time.

  3. Don’t give a damn about: Wearing clothes in sizes I never thought I would “achieve”; trendy restaurants; roots way too visible and the need for a dye job; going somewhere without makeup; sags and wrinkles; so many things that there isn’t room here. Life is GOOD.
    J

  4. I started going gray at 25. Now, at 32, I’ve decided to give up the monthly dye applications, and cut my thick hair into a sensible short-funky do that doesn’t require a hair dryer or even a brush.

    I was on vacation last week and my goal was to go braless the whole time, and I succeeded. It was very relaxing. I think you’re on to something!

  5. Karleen – love it (especially the braless part)! A friend suggested I might be allergic to bras as I avoid them whenever I can. Breath! Hard to find deep, full, luxurious breaths when everything is all tied up proper. I love the image of sitting at the beach like trailer trash, what a lovely post.

  6. lord, i was so glad when i reached “that” birthday – the one when i received the best gift of all: letting go of stuff i’d drug around like anchors.

  7. Karleen, I just had to share what one of my facebook friends recently posted, as it seems so appropriate here: “The five stages of a woman’s life…(1) To grow up; (2) to fill out; (3) to slim down; (4) to hold it in; and (5) to hell with it !!!” I, myself, have definitely reached state five! LOL

  8. Ah yes, letting go. Having been a “pack rat” for as long as I can remember, I’ve been emptying stored boxes with a deliberate desire to clean up and clear out. Don’t ask me why I’ve kept the text books from nursing school that I attended almost forty years ago. It just seemed a little sacreligious to get rid of them after all the hours I spent reading them. Their info is, of course, mostly obsolete now, although some of the pictures are priceless! Seems like I’m throwing away slivers of proof that I survived those difficult years of going to school while raising 3 kids after the marriage to their dad was too tired to survive. I cried a little as I tossed the books in the trash can. The spiders may have cried too as I destroyed some of their webbed beauty.

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