I guess so – I don’t spend a lot of time in front of the mirror but I’m a realistic sort of person so I know I’m getting older and because I’d never bother with surgery or Botox or anything else things are going to change. I don’t think I feel as young as I did when I was 20 or 30 or that I even want to
It doesn’t freak me out that I’m looking older but it does freak me out a bit that I’m getting older. It’s because I’ll be turning 50 in about a month and I just can’t see how that can be possible. I know everyone bangs on about life beginning now and it being so wonderful and such a great time but I think they’re kidding themselves a teeny little bit. Sure I can see all the positives that come with getting older but when it comes down to it you haven’t really got a lot of good years left in you compared to the amount you’ve had. Even if you’re a fit older person you’ve probably only got until 75 – maybe 80 max I reckon where you can get around and travel and just do stuff easily. Sure you see the occasional 90-year-old jumping out of a plane but it’s not the norm. So that’s what kind of freaks me out; I’ve got a lot of things I want to do so I need to get cracking on them as time is flying.
Recently I bought one of those 6 x magnification mirrors because I couldn’t see what I was doing when I put my makeup on and man I can tell you, there’s no hiding from the truth in one of those things.
I don’t put a lot of stock in appearances and try not to judge people based on how they dress or look but I think it’s kind of natural to. You just have to go out for lunch or shopping with your elderly disabled father to see how people made assumptions about him based on how he presented physically. Or if I go out with my 80-year-old mother, people treat her like a child or as if she’s senile in some way. She was buying a coffee machine and I said I was going to go look at the cameras and the salesman said I’d better just stay there and hear what he had to say – because obviously my mother wasn’t going to understand or might forget in ten minutes time. I’m like – I don’t want the coffee machine, talk to her about it.
Anyway I think I’m off track now so I’ll just add this little part from the short story Eleven which kind of sums up how I feel about getting older. When I look in the mirror I just see me and I feel like me which is a culmination at this point of all the years I’ve ever been.
What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are —underneath the year that makes you eleven.
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.