My mind is drowning in thoughts of racism: why it still exists, what we can do to end it, and knowing that somewhere in America tonight, especially #ferguson, a person of color is having their civil rights violated while I sleep in my cozy bed. I’m not sure anyone understands how deeply this disturbs me. We’re all uniquely wonderful. Can’t we just celebrate our diversity and love one another?
On the other hand, these thoughts are consuming me, as maybe they should, but my developing anxiety helps no one. If and when I can help, I’ll be ready. Until then, I’m just going to show my support as best I can, and not make the conversation about me.
That being said, the other thing on my mind is that I’ve sort of reclaimed myself a little.
I like to think of myself as neat, but casual. The problem is I’m almost too casual. I don’t own a dress or a skirt. This isn’t a real problem, I suppose, except that sometimes I’d like to wear “girl” clothes like I did when I was younger. Now, I’m not talking about micro-mini skirts and super high stilettos. When I think of a dress or skirt style now, I entertain thoughts of A-line dresses (pin up style) or maxi skirts. I’d most definitely wear the maxi skirt with awesome boots, a kickin’ hat, and a beautiful scarf. Funny though, I’d have never given a long dress a second thought 20 years ago. Even 10 years ago I would’ve declined. Things get weird as you get older.
Thinking back to when I was in my 20s, I still didn’t love my body much more than I do now. Although, I sure as hell flirted with loving it then, and looking back, it was pretty awesome. Why did I spend so much time body shaming myself? But I digress.
In some strange twist, even though I’m older and less in shape, I’ve come to accept my body much more. More importantly, I’ve learned how to mask the flaws and celebrate the good shit. So, maxi skirts it is. The pin up look is rockin’ too, but that’s some serious I’m-goin’-out business right there.
I love neutral colors accessorized with pops of brights. It sort of matches my personality. After some discussion and sharing photos of different looks with my besties, I think I know what’s going to fit me best. I’m really lucky because they’re so honest, but again, I digress. I finally think I can pull off dressing in something other than jeans again.
What really worries me isn’t just how I’ll look, it’s the looks and comments I’ll get. I’m always so awkward when receiving compliments and I hate when someone is like “Wow. You’re dressed up.” Like I’ve been walking about in a potato sack or something. “Hey! You clean up real nice.” Thanks for the backhanded compliment, jerk. Now move along.
Being a girl in a visually centered culture is tough. Being a woman in her forties in that culture is even harder. But it’s alright.
See, I may put myself down here and there, but mostly I know I’m fucking fabulous. I’m going out there and owning that shit, right down to the coordinating lipstick!! Forty isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.