i saw a glimpse of my naked bod as i was getting in the shower and started wondering when, exactly, i could give up the whole circus of caring about how i look.
used to be that post-baby women would be allowed to let themselves go. not anymore. now yoga-pant wearing hot mommies power push the urban assault vehicles containing little mackenzies and bens up and down steep hills, showing off their toned butts and besides, i ain't know nothin' about birthin' no babies, so that doesn't help.
used to be that 40 was the magical time of letting go. no more. 40 is the new 30 (whatever that means) and so the streets* are filled to the brim with trim women of a certain age, showing all the benefits of a rigorous pilates schedule and a solid knowledge of flattering clothes and a good hairdresser.
50? will i be able to let go at 50? looking at my mother, who has only just exited her 50's, probably not. a great haircut, sexy red boots, cute glasses, and an awesome scarf wrapped around her neck - your classic grandma this ain't.
ok, how about 60? will this be the decade to finally pull up my elastic-waist pants to right under my sagging bosom and hit the streets with a devil-may-care attitude and bad hair? probably not. the 60's will most likely expect some modicum of decorum, slightly less swearing and longer skirts, but what i see of 60 still looks pretty damn good.
in fact, and this is far from exhaustive, it isn't until the 70's that we begin to witness the ubiquitous up-to-the-armpits elastic waist, grandma perm, flesh-toned nylon socks and shoes so sensible they hurt the very eyes.
which means that i have over 30 more years of attempting to look good. and no, i could never be one of those people who give up prematurely** so i'll just have to bite the bullet and continue doing my best to not frighten small children.
*most likely not the streets of fort mcmurray, those are populated with some scary ass shit.
**at a memorable dinner that mr. monkey and i hosted for his mom and an old family friend, the friend showed up wearing this t-shirt and shocked the hell out of me. perhaps i am and will forever be too european to see that as acceptable dinner attire, especially from a middle aged woman, especially in light of the fact that the mother-in-law had gussied herself up admirably. just NO.