TO AGE OR NOT TO AGE

As part of the New Years’ resolution I did not take, I figured it was about time to writeup a Bindi Post. If extreme boredom is not the instigating factor, if grueling loneliness is not the catapulting factor, if the rapidly reducing single malt bottle is not the compelling factor, well, then it must be NDE (near death experiences)..

I am reminded of Roethke as I inch slowly towards mid-life..alone and brave…

What's madness but nobility of soul 
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! 
I know the purity of pure despair, 
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall. 
That place among the rocks--is it a cave, 
Or a winding path? The edge is what I have.

The edge is exactly what I have. As I slowly turn into the crazy lady in the elevator who distracts you from your 'stare at the phone' meditation or the whimsical woman who went to North Pole to eat Thai food (also known as 'watch Asians have sex under the aurora')…the point I am trying to make is profoundly about embracing the physical signs of becoming defunct eventually.

My friend Barbie once lashed out at the world declaring out loud that she had had it with anti-aging creams. Why ‘anti’-aging? Where are the ‘pro’-aging lotions? Where is the 5K walk FOR slowly shriveling? Where is the Greenpeace anarchy against those myriad age-defying BB/CC serums, why do I not see those renegades hanging outside of Wholefoods handing out “Support Crows-feet” flyers …. as Floyd appropriately sang “we don’t need no education, we don’t need no sag control…”

Personally, I have had it with the soul sucking, confidence shattering stylists, aestheticians and plastic surgeons. I damn them as bottom-feeders just as many predatory lucrative professions out there (you know who you are, feasting on human insecurity and fears..bah). But who is asking me for my opinions? We already hit rock bottom with Trump…

So just the other day Annica and I are having this passionate discussion on “age-groups slotting”, over text. (Texting is an imperative means of debates these days, phone calls are passe, fyi, especially during work hours). Sharon, the engineer waxes philosophical (hmm.. odd) saying finding love and that perfect partner is not about the age …it’s about connection. Annica chips in …timing too. Yaya, connection, timing, laws of attraction, age is a construct..cross my heart-hope to die! But reality is reality, you go shopping and there are more pinks than blues. You go dating, well there is always the hunger for the younger.

So where does mid-life begin or end? If age groups in dating hierarchy is divided into 20 – 30 years, and then the whopping 40 plus (to infinity?)…I think that’s just BS…because you have just smooshed together the most definitive and confident years of life and forcefully grandfathered it waiting for death to arrive with a sickle….as Milton expresses succinctly “How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth..” Well, not happening.

I am still trying to wrap my head around the exciting stranger I sat next to in my almost-midlife-crisis getaway flight, who had to, absolutely know how old I was and furthermore, his vehement disbelief that I was a mom. And don't even get me started on the damnation of moms, I remember when I went with great enthusiasm to audition for an unpaid modeling gig and the cold co-ordinator's spine-chilling response "I was told you are a mom, we don't take moms, your age doesnt make the cut-off since the other models are in their 20's". I had to seek Victoria's Secret lingerie shopping therapy after that encounter. How did she know my age because I could give 20 year olds a run for their money? And what does it matter if I am a mom? Who are these fashionistas who revel in their own bubbles demeaning other women? What’s this virus that ails the minds of men and women alike? Isn’t it okay to embrace the law of diminishing returns of the body while our minds are constantly shedding skin and rejuvenating? And if our souls are timeless, what exotic European concoctions can we possibly apply to buff those rusted, conditioned thoughts? Do we really need to ask the shallow question "how old are you?" Or, "really you are a mom.."...sigh.

I say, we need more '50 shades of graying' books in the beauty aisle! I also say we need more post-botox collectible celebrity Barbie dolls of Joan Rivers or Michaela Romanini or Donatello Versace to be reminded of the existential joke when ones tries to hold on to constancy and the universe laughs a thunderous laugh in response. I say, the future lies in the silvering pussy riots for every bush has silver lining..go figure.

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
of a certain end.

The other, the end of a
sure beginning.

Maya Angelou