Lately, I’ve been feeling a little smug about how well I’m dealing with the aging process. My encroaching wrinkles give me character. I embrace my faulty memory. And my crotchety, do-it-my-way-or-not-at-all attitude has a certain charm. Aging and I have become buddies.
Then, the other day, I decided to wear a thong. Read more →
Recently, a twentysomething girl on an airplane called me “Ma’am.”
I was on my way to Chicago for a reunion with a wonderful group of women who dubbed themselves the Dowagers years ago in graduate school, when they were far from dowagers. I was more of a dowager than they were. I was one of the oldest in our program, though at the time I was only in my thirties.
Still, no one called me “Ma’am” back then. Read more →
My mother died two years ago today.
Her death was sudden yet unsurprising. She was only seventy, but her body and spirit were so very weary. Weary of weight and pain and medicine and needles and sugar counts. And of the countless limitations that ruled her: limitations on what she could eat, how far she could walk, how long she could sit in a car, on an airplane, in a chair, in a bed.
By the end, there was no comfortable place for her. Her obesity made even stillness excruciating. Read more →
The Age of Invisibility is upon me.
I’ve been dreading it.
I thought I had time. I thought it would be years before men started walking past me and letting doors slam in my face instead of holding them open for me. Before teenagers nearly mowed me down with their skateboards because they didn’t notice me directly in their paths.
But I live in Los Angeles. And I don’t do Botox or fillers.
Apparently, that’s enough in La La Land to launch an older woman into invisibility.
I’ve never been much of a girly girl.
I rarely wear makeup or get my nails done. Most days I forget to brush my hair. Waxing any body part seems like a torture designed for others braver than I am.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate girly things. Like clothes, for instance. I love clothes. Love. Them. Especially when I was a lawyer and had extra cash. Guess where it all went? Not to vacations or nice cars or nice houses.
I spent my extra cash on clothes. And shoes.
God, the shoes. Read more →
Ever since I participated in the Love Your Body Now project, the brainchild of Shannon Bradley-Colleary, I’ve found myself acutely aware of the growing number of projects that are intent on expanding our definition of beauty and teaching women to view themselves and their bodies with more kindness and love. Read more →
A while back, my friend Shannon Bradley-Colleary, a successful screenwriter and blogger, burst upon the media scene with a series of art nude photos of herself, the first set taken when she was twenty-six and the second when she was forty-six. Read more →