I had a lovely birthday - thank you for all of the well wishes. 41; so far so good. I have a weekend of kid's sporting fixtures to logistics ahead of me; with a slow-down tomorrow for Mother's Day.
Some things on my mind:
With a daughter under my roof, issues that face young women are super-relevant to me (if not exactly for now, but I am getting prepared; the secret to good parenting?) This great post on sexual consent is about as clear as it can get and I will certainly refer back to it. This message should be taught to all teens; boys and girls.
Even though Spring and Summer feels like a long way off, I have decided that I need palm tree trousers - so this year it's these. I am in love. I also like this.
I started a new yoga session this week. I find yoga classes fascinating. For an activity which is so self-centred, for the self-aware, I am amazed how much attention the class pay to each others abilities. For beginners, who don't know their pigeon pose from their tree pose, it can be hard. I am now a few years into doing yoga and can hold my own, but there is something of beauty to be found in those whose practise flows and who can perform each position with ease. I have so been there (after the power yoga debacle) where every muscle is shaking and I feel like I am about to pass out from effort.
I have registered to vote; our country will choose new leadership in May and after all the Suffragettes did for us, it's criminal for a woman not to vote. Only 64% of women voted in the last election...
I have an American friend, Robin, who is building a little empire, one cool idea after another. She redid her uber-stylish home and got it featured all over the place and then started a fashion tote bag sideline. Meanwhile, her Pinterest feed is something else. And she rocks pink-tinged hair. I like people who make stuff happen.
Having discussed the existential side of growing older, can I also comment on the aesthetic side? A few times on this blog I have written about feeling saddened by the passing of the years and how ageing is affecting my appearance. A handful of commenters said that they found this disappointing, that I should embrace the process and not worry about what I look like. Meanwhile, I observe friends with interest and note how some are more affected than others. Here is an irony: I have an age spot (liver spot? sun spot?) on the side of forehead, and every time I get my roots done, the stylist thinks it's a splash of hair-dye and tries to rub the age spot off! I can see the funny side and depending how forthright the stylist is, they sometimes ask outright: is this mark part of your face?! I explain; they blush. They are usually all of about 20 years of age. Age spots have not arrived on their horizon. Have I learnt to love this age spot as it is a testament to a life lived? No, not really. Do I wish I had applied better sunscreen? Yes. Does ageing kinda suck? Yes. Do I wish I looked younger? Well, kinda, yes.
I do make a point of celebrating women whose faces show age and am often alarmed at those who medically intervene and look unrecognisable as a result, Renee Zellweger style. But I so understand the impetus to intervene, although the prospect of actually doing so scares me silly. It's not fun looking older. It's not nice when people say 'she looks good, for her age,' as the qualifier to the statement. And although it's all tied up with how society perceive age and how we should all find beauty in the different and the imperfect, it is an inscrutable fact of life.
I figure there is only one way to go - ignore it. Buy more clothes. Read more books. Inhabit the possible and not the impossible. Get some Vitamin D from the rare shards of sunlight that make it through the March cloud. Drink red wine. Happy days.
