Am I allowed to say this ….Fuck!……..! I know it’s not very polite, or intelligent, or desirable, but it’s the only thought in my head. FUCK! Can you, can anyone, can I believe how old I am? Can you, I, or anyone imagine how many years I have been alive on this earth. It’s mind-boggling.
This age, – and don’t ask me to say what it is. I’m not ready. I’ll say it, maybe by the end of this little mind-ramble, but not yet; This age doesn’t feel as I thought it would feel. I thought I would feel old. I don’t. I feel young. I mean look at me. I think I look good. I still shake my tail feather, and jump and shout at parties. I just don’t do it or crave it as much as I did a few years ago, but I still got it. I still do the gym thing when I can be bothered. I do it no more or less now that I did then, when I was ‘young’.
I still crave great sex, in fact much more now than in past years, and I’m a much more enthusiastic participant. I think one gives oneself permission to just be sexy and do whatever that demands, wherever that demands. And, therefore, one gets better at it. And it carries with it much less obligation therefore it’s much more fun.
I wear much nicer and sexier underwear. I appreciate these things for myself, now. It’s not about enticing a man. Damn, if he isn’t already enticed by the time we get all the way to the underwear, then he isn’t going to be enticed at all. I have learned to appreciate that.
I like my body. No, it’s not a fashion model size, but I like it. It’s interesting. It’s beautiful. It has uniquenessess. I love what it does. I love how it feels. I love that it’s healthy and supple. Weight? Oh, what a boring issue. Yes, I could lose weight. I will lose weight, but it’s not a burning priority. I’m loving this body.
I value my girlfriends so much more. I enjoy their company so much. I need them so much more. We’re all different ages. Not all my girlfriends are as old, or as young as me; in fact their way of being isn’t even defined by how old or young they are. But, it’s because of them, in many ways that I’m so ok with me. I’m ok with being this age. – I will say it. Be patient with me. I’m ok with being it. I’m approaching being ok with saying it. Don’t rush me. – I’m open to learning from them even when they don’t realise that they’re teaching me something.
Those who are older than me are so fabulous. I want to be like them when I grow up. They’re so together, so self-sufficient, so elegant and fashionable – some appropriately so, some are mutton dressed as lamb – but they are fabulous women. They are fun, and sexy and they wear killer heels. Some are married, some divorced, some, like me, eternally single. I admire their success at being themselves.
Those who are younger than me, keep me young. I admire their drive, their get up and go. Some have opted for marriage and kids. Others are not yet ready by mid 30’s. I admire their attitude towards men. They make me think that women are the new men in relationships. I admire their intelligence. I love listening to their view of the world. They sometimes drag me to the nightclub, where I’m no longer comfortable being, but where I do have fun with them.
I should call my girlfriends my sisters. They are my sisters. A sister is one who loves and listens and shows up with champagne when something good happens to you, and shows up with champagne to cry with you and who comes over when you call in need and who demands that you’re there for them, when they need you.
Last year I had a little medical procedure. Nothing hectic – woman stuff. I called Natalie. She said ‘Are you ok’. I said ‘No, I’m not’. And I promptly burst into tears. She said ‘I’m on my way’. An hour later I had a bedroom full of loud women, and I was laughing and they were fussing over me and everything was alright. I love them so much.
I love my guy friends – my brothers. Men are funny about being friends with women. I have one friend in particular who always wants to be ‘troublesome’, and I have to keep reminding him. ‘I’m not your girlfriend.’ But, mostly they are like brothers. A woman needs that testosterone energy around, and it shouldn’t have to be only with lovers. It’s a silly myth that men can only be friends with women he has slept with. I’ve not found that to be true. Some of them are married, and I’ve never met their wives. I’ve stopped asking about their wives. Clearly, they’re not making that my business. But I do love spending time with them. I love them.
49. There I’ve said it. Look at those numbers. When they are juxtaposed like that they mean a lot of water under a lot of bridges. They mean so many experiences. So many years of happiness and sadness; love and loneliness; success and failure; winning and losing. They mean years of acquired wisdom. They mean finally getting to the point of self-love where it’s ok to love people because love just feels right.
By the time you’re as old as me you can choose how you want to be treated by others. Those who don’t treat me right are not invited to be part of me, because, yes, by the time I’m this old I appreciate me enormously. I know what I deserve. That makes me less selfish. That makes me more tolerant. That gives me more joy.
On 13th March 2011 I shall be “49yrs old”. Tommorrow I shall be “49yrs Old”. Wow! And I don’t feel a day over 30. I shall go with those I love and who love me to a beautiful place and be served a beautiful lunch and drink a little champers and laugh and love and be loved and it will be Groovy. It will be extremely Groovy! Happy 49 Tselane!