I turned 35 last summer. I kept waiting to have this huge emotional response to this monumental birthday, but so far– nothin’. It was somewhat anti-climactic. I was certain I would have this moment, day, or week, of deep existential inspiration or anguish, or perhaps I would feel that I had been altered on a cellular level, or graduated to the class of Real Grown-ups. (I just can’t stop wishing for that one…) Yeah, not so much.
But I’ve tried to force myself to ponder a few mathematical realities:
I am now closer to 40 than I am to 30.
If we ever decide to have a third baby, it will officially be labeled a “geriatric pregnancy,” or the slightly more tasteful, watered-down, “advanced maternal age.”
My seven-year-old daughter is now closer to 21 than I am. TryΒ thatΒ on for size. Kind of mind-blowing, no? (Especially for those of you who drank all varieties of multi-colored alcoholic beverages with me during my own 21st year. You know who you are.)
I’d like to think that 35 (OK, closer to 36 now…) is still “young” and that I haven’t really changed that much in the first half of the decade. But I have noticed a few gradual changes that have snuck up on me this past year, which have caused me to reflect on what it means to be at this stage of life- halfway between 30 and 40. My brilliant blog colleagues have written some beautiful posts about their ages and what exactly this stage of life means to them– Lindsey Mead wrote “This is 38. This is Midlife” and Allison Slater Tate wrote “This is 39“. My post isn’t exactly so thought-provoking and deep. Instead, I’m going to focus mainly on the shallow and vain aspects of this age- my body and its apparent decline.
It’s not all vanity- some of this is practical, medical, the effect-of-aging-on-the-body stuff.Β I am undoubtedly more sore and stiff these days, requiring a combination of massage, chiropractic care, acupuncture, exercise, and yoga to make me feel halfway decent. For about two months this fall, two of the toes on my right foot felt numb and fused together. Awesome, huh? It eventually went away. Now I have this pesky tingling in my right shoulderblade that pops up every day or so. Is this the sort of thing that’s going to keep happening to me?
In years past, when I would sit down and twist to the side, I would be rewarded with a satisfying ripple of pops along my spine. Now, that stretch is met with a stubborn, disgruntled resistance. I’m just not as pliable as I once was. I still practice yoga, and my level of activity is (almost) the same, so I’m left with this conclusion: It must just beΒ me.Β
Of course there are the gray hairs that have begun to plague me, winking menacingly at me in the mirror as I stand in the uber-harsh florescent light of public restrooms. I found a new one just the other day-Β and not where you might expect.Β Yeah.
I’ve noticed that I am less insistent about appearing in family photos. (Ahem, speaking of Allison Slater Tate, you should take this moment to re-read The Mom Stays in the Picture. And shame on me for perpetuating this problem.) I used to be more vain than I currently am, in better physical shape, and generally took a bit more pride in my appearance than I do these days. So I am less vehement about being photographed with the girls.
In fact, when I look at family photos, I fear I may have peaked about three years ago- yup, age 32 may turn out to be “the best I ever looked.” Frankly, I find that a bit depressing, and I wonder how I am going to shift my concept of self-worth in the years to come. If I’m going to avoid sinking into a deep depression sometime in my 50s, I’m going to have to readjust what beauty means to me.
There has been this inevitable spread that’s occurred in my hips and thighs, and a certain softening of my belly. These changes seemed to creep up on me sometime after my second daughter’s birth- I don’t think I really noticed until after I weaned her and my metabolism apparently left the building along with my milk supply.Β Β I’m not sure I can “fix” these things. Actually, I’m certain I could ditch the peskyΒ 10 15 pounds that made an appearance in the past five years, but it would take more energy and temperance than I have room for. Sure, I could work out on weekends, take walks daily with my toddler regardless of the weather, set aside my gracelessness and pride and try Zumba, or join Weight Watchers.
But at this stage of life– the parenting small children stage– these things are about as appealing to me as enrolling in the Pap Smear of the Month club. If I exercised more, when would I write? I look forward to myΒ weeklyΒ OK, fine, daily desserts after the kids go to bed. My happiness means more to me than my weight. There, I said it. So why can’t I let go of that longing for the body of 30-year-old me?
I tend to dive straight into my sweatpants (some of them aren’t even cool enough to earn the acceptable moniker “yoga pants.”) as soon as I get home from work. At noon. To be fair, I’ve always had a thing for loungewear, but ten years ago– per Stacy and Clinton of “What Not To Wear”‘s urging– I never wore them in public. These days it’s common practice to wear the same bottoms I plan to sleep in to the grocery store.Β Β Yesterday when I was perusing my underwear drawer before getting dressed, I bypassed the pretty, frilly bikinis in favor of the ginormous, shapeless briefs generally designated only for Monthly Visitor Wear. They just seemed more appealing.
This New Year’s Eve, we had that aforementioned parent rager at our house with some neighbors. I was thrilled when we came up with this brilliant plan to solve our party wardrobe conundrum:
Β Here’s the final product:
Yes, it’s true- I just don’t care very much about fashion anymore. And yet there’s that touch of ambivalence- sure, I’m too lazy/busy to exercise daily and update my closet, but I still want my husband/friends/strangers to find me attractive. I’m stuck in that traditional beauty trap that tells me that my cultural importance rotates inflexibly around my youthfulness and physical appearance. Can’t we collectively convince the world that Real is the New Sexy?
This isn’t a real T-shirt. Maybe it should be, though.
Have you heard about the new #365FeministSelfie thing? It was created by Veronica Arreola of Viva La Feminista, and championed by Avital Norman Nathman of The Mamfesto– go check it out. I’ve been taking selfies forever, long before they were referred to as the word-of-the-year “selfies,” and when I discovered this new trend last week, it really resonated with me and brought me tremendous comfort and inspiration. I loved Sarah of Left Brain Buddha‘s idea to incorporate the realities of motherhood into this concept- essentially a “Motherhood Selfie,” and one of my first #365 efforts was a selfie of me laying in bed, about to fall asleep, holding a zonked and previously hysterical toddler on top of me. Doesn’t get much more real than that!
It’s not that I have a huge hangup about my body- I’m not filled with self-loathing or consider myself to be a hideous slob. But it’s been eye-opening to realize that things are changing; even the positive change of having a family and feeling more comfortable in my own life and yes, even my own skin, are irrevocably linked to not so great changes that are inevitable with aging. (Cough, chin hairs.)Β It’s a strange vantage point to think that from a purely physical standpoint, one’s “most attractive” years could be behind them. Maybe taking regular photos of myself au naturel– as I am– will help me to redefine my vision of beauty and align it with the rest of my feminist beliefs. I hope that I can look at photos of myself at age 40, 50, 60, and up, and see a beautiful, valuable woman who matters.
For whatever reason, many of my favorite bloggers and I were on the same page this past week or so- we’ve all had feminism on the brain. Check out some really thought-provoking, inspiring posts from some of my favorites! Β
The Feminist Week in Review
Nothing By The Book: Naked Face Politics
Left Brain Buddha: Feminist Selfie. Motherhood Selfie. Fatherhood Selfie. Buddhist Selfie?
Tao of Poop: Babes in Toyland
And my post several weeks ago: My Beautiful Girls: Raising Feminist Daughters
I have a 6 year old daughter that is closer to 30 than I am.
I am 57.
Sigh….
Yeah… we’ve got to knock off these crazy-making statistics! π Thanks for stopping by!
I love this idea. I have a feeling my best years are behind me too, and trying to get used to it is hard. It’s especially difficult when we’ve been used to hearing our worth should be measured by our appearance. Ugh.
It is hard to get used to! But I’m sure in 10 or 20 years, I’ll look back and me now and think I looked awesome. :p
Way to go, and thanks for all the links. I have a draft post in my blogger account about feminist selfies and Sarah’s take on it. I loved that post of hers. I’m 37 (38 in six days), and I’m watching “time march across my face” as Truvy or Clairee says. Did you read Lizzi’s post on fixed ages? That’s a good one, too.
Oh I can’t wait to read your post! And nice one with the Steel Magnolias reference! π
You spoke to so many things I’m going through right now at *cough cough* 43. I’ve been killing myself with food/exercise regimes for the past four years to hold up to an ideal I must except isn’t realistic anymore. I want to be healthy. I want to be physically fit. That is all I want *now*. The rest of my former expectations (have a body like Jennifer Aniston, for example) have to go bye-bye because I can’t handle the disappointment when I can’t attain them! I do think natural is beautiful. And I think aging is beautiful. I think your “real” selfie is stunning. Why can’t I be easier on myself? I’m trying. I’m part-way there.
Your post was perfection. Tweeted it. Gonna go check out the other posts now!
Did I really effing use except where I should have used accept? UGH. and evidently my brain has gone to sh*t, too.
OH, and I would TOTALLY wear that T-shirt! I think I need one.
OK, first of all, my aging brain totally didn’t notice. Probably never would have. And thank you so much for such a supportive comment- it’s nice to know I’m not the only one attempting to readjust her standards! Yes, aging IS beautiful!
I’m seven years ahead of you, Stephanie – and I hear you loud and clear. I do exercise and eat fairly well, but to be told that all things being equal I’m likely to gain a pound a year in my forties and fifties – WTF? That sucks.
As far as wanting to look nice but not having the motivation to do it, you may change your mind when your little one is in school full time. That was a turning point for me – that’s when I joined the gym, and started to care more about what I wore. Just think of halfway to 40 as halfway to fabulous. π
Dana, you always bring me such comforting advice and perspective- thank you so much for that!
This made me laugh!! So, maybe my blog post was just justification of my natural mid-life progression toward wanting to wear sweats everyday too??? That’s a sad thought! My sister wanted to do a “Pajamas and a fancy top” song on YouTube. It may be a hit some day. π
That would totally be a YouTube sensation! I want in! π I like to call my look “business on top, bedroom on the bottom”… π
I turn 39 in a few weeks, so I am headed to the dreaded 4-0 and it totally freaks me out!!! 30’s still sound young and hip, and 40 just does not (sorry to all the 40+-ers reading this). And oh, how I miss my flat tummy…. so much. But yes, those post-children’s-bedtime desserts are one of the lovely delights of motherhood! And I love your selfies — {which autocorrect first corrected to selfless, and then to self lies …. hmmmm…..} And thanks for the shout-out! xoxo
Wow, interesting autocorrects eh? Selfless and self lies… You’re welcome- I think your post inspired many!
Oh, I so get this Stephanie! I will be 37 in about a month. I’m stiffer and a good 15 pounds heavier than I would like to be. However, I lack the motivation to do much about it! I have days where I care more about how I look, but other days I feel like more of a slob than I ever have before. That thing about your daughter being closer to 21 than you – my oldest is only 10 years away from 21 – OUCH!!!
Wow, 10 years away- it’s so hard to think about this stuff!!!
I love reading blogs. Sometimes the voices make me appreciate the diversity of our experience of life and other times, the voices form a chorus and send one strong, clear message. Yours is a worthy voice to the chorus leading the conversation on real women and authentic experiences of our natural selves. xoxo
Wow, that may be one of the nicest comments I’ve ever gotten. Ever. Thank you, my friend…
I was so so sad at 30. Really. 40? Not so much and I’m not sure why although I’ve heard that this has happened to others. For me, the biggest shift in my looks and my self worth has come in the last three years. Something happened between 42 and 45 that just, well, made me ugly. I know you don’t get that and I know that you will deny that because we are also IRL friends, but I guess this is my way of saying don’t worry about 36? I’d LOVE to be that age…and, well, not, because at 36, I was single, had recently left an awful relationship, and was well 36. It’s all relative? And I adore love adore you.
Jeez what a dumb comment I left. I guess the point is that turning 30 was more of a wow for me than turning 40. 36 is an awesome age. For real!
I am laughing out loud. Not dumb. It’s all about our own perspective!
Such an insightful post! I don’t get all caught up with numbers either (I’m 37 but feel younger) but it is hard to see changes in ourselves, especially when they are linked to our self-esteem or self-worth. I like your attitude, though. We are more than just our outside! π
Thanks, Jessica! Yes, being linked to our self-esteem makes it so much more complicated, huh?
I will turn 46 in a few months so technically I’m already closer to 50 than 40. It’s funny. I don’t think about it all that much until I see pictures of my younger self. I don’t mean my college photos (although boy, did I look young in those) I can’t get over what a baby I look like in my photos with the kids when they were little. Let’s just say that the past 13 years have been hard on my overall look and grooming. The best part is…my psyche is LOADS better than it was 14 years ago. I’ve really grown up and learned so much about life and love and who I am (and what I want to be). I wouldn’t trade that progress for all the fantastic hairdo’s and lack of stretch marks in the world!! –Lisa
That is some serious wisdom there… thanks, Lisa!
I turned 40 in November and its definitely a weird one. I can’t believe I’ve been on this earth so long. I had my youngest at 36 and its been great. Yes my body has definitely changed but a couple of years ago I took charge and made some changes. I had exercise but decided to change up my diet to be more healthy and lose a few pounds. I’ve also tried to focus more and being pulled together when I go out. And it really helps.
Good for you- thanks so much for stopping by and for commenting. It helps to know what everyone else is going through!
Whoops I meant I HATE exercise!
I just turned 33 in November and I feel ya, woman. I. Feel. You. A fancy day is when I remember to put earrings in. A normal day is when I’m still in my PJs at 2pm. Like today. I love Lisa’s response above, though, because I’m beginning to feel that way as well. While I’m not crazy about the fine lines around my eyes or the extra junk in my trunk (totally my fault, btw), I do feel more confident and comfortable in my own skin. And I think that’s worth a line or two π
Yep, I feel you sister! I too think Lisa is onto something, and I totally appreciate how much more comfortable I feel in my own skin now than I did even 10 years ago…
I completely and totally love this post. 1) I can completely relate. 2) It is hard to believe that time flies the way that it does 3) Sexy is all in the eye of the beholder, right? – and earrings TOTALLY count!!
When I was 35 I was just getting out of a miserable marriage, I was convinced that I was never going to have kids and that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life (once I was brave enough to finally go through with the divorce). At 40 1/2 (now) I am the mom of an 18 month old…I have #2 on the way and due in 12 weeks (and yes…designated GERIATRIC PREGNANCY) and despite the rough days and the reality of life that often sets in…I have never been happier. Age is only a number right? And things can be great or SH**%$^& when you are 20 or when you are 40 or when you are 60….I am just hoping for a lot more great than crappy and I love love love that you wrote this post. I am hoping to be just like you when I grow up π
Aw, shucks! Thanks for such a fantastic comment- I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it ! I didn’t know you were due with #2 in 12 weeks! You are one kick-ass “geriatric mama”- so good for you! Your comments about your age and stage of life are so insightful- thank you! Age is totally only a number- and I want to be like YOU when I grow up! π
My body clocks in at 90 years old.
Not kidding.
My neurosurgeon said that I have the bone structure of a 90 year old who got hit by a bus.
I’m all sexy like that.
Despite how I physically feel, my head is young and stupid.
Perhaps that is my balance.
My husband is turning 36 years old on Saturday. To say that I’m not traumatized by this realization would be a lie.
All of us women are beautiful whether we are wearing a jogging suit or slutting it up on stage with booty shorts. We need to embrace ourselves.
My 35 was in November. I would take your list and raise you:
1- chin hairs (that’s a nice, new development) and
2- morning breath (what is THAT?! I floss! I have good dental hygiene!)
I will also say that, and I get this sense from reading your post, my self-acceptance level is at an ultimate, wonderful high. I feel so right in my own skin for the first time since I can remember. Is that age, too?
Love the #motherhoodselfie! I have thrown 2 up on my IG account already and I am a huge fan.
Thanks for this post!
I turned 35 several months ago, and I keep forgetting that’s how old I am. Although, it was definitely on my mind when my husband brought up the possibility of having another child. I was like, “No. That boat has sailed.” Mostly because my son is 13 and I like the idea of only being 40 when he graduates.