Somewhere Between Miss and Ma'am

My knee-jerk response rebuttal to Lynda's, "45 Is NOT the New 25"

I found a new blogger I'm in lurve with. My other bloggie friend, Christina, turned me on to Lynda, and she is a hoot. We share some core beliefs on snarcasm, self abasement and child education.  I think we would make good friends if we were not three-thousand miles apart.  Lynda has a moderate following of 80 or 4,000 readers, so that makes her pretty popular in blog-land. She probably is so busy writing her next post right now to notice my little crumb of the blog pie. I don't expect she has time to read what I think and I'm counting on that based on what I'm about to say (hiding safely in my little inconspicuous corner of her territory).  For I am a chicken and in no way seasoned enough to challenge this woman personally.

From what I've read and far as I can tell, Lynda and I probably don't disagree on much, except this one teensy thing. In September she posted a manifesto on acting like a forty-something and I was intrigued to read her summation on what will be expected of me during an age that will surely be the dregs of my mid-life crisis. You see, Forty is rapidly hunting me down like a ravenous beast and fast as I'm being chased by its imminent approach, running in my flip- flops (or Toms depending on the weather), I will go down thumping the forty year old monster like a scared little bunny rabbit donned in lip gloss, slightly impeded by my tight trendy jeans and sparkly low cut T-shirt. This is where Linda and I part ways.  While she solemnly intends to abide by her self imposed rules for women over forty and though her vehement suggestions are all good and well for her, I could not miss the stern mother-tone in her pitch that implied the whole lot of us girls over forty ought to better follow suit. Now, I happen to agree with a few of her proposals so to save time I will just give you the bullet points to which I cowardly raise the gauntlet.


**for the full hilarious version of Lynda's post, click here, her quotes below in bold italics**

"We have been brainwashed into believing that acting your age (if your age is over 25) is taboo.  I hate to break it to you, but 45 is NOT the new 25.  I don't care what Sheryl Crow says.  I'm taking back adulthood one Bunco party at at time, and here are some rules that I plan to live by for the rest of my days...

Oh, Lynda. The advent of modern medicine, magic potions and plastic surgery have indeed made it possible for any forty-five year old to look twenty-five. Especially if you're Sheryl Crow, Sandra Bullock, Nicole Kidman, Julia Roberts, Demi More, Jennifer Anniston, or Angelina Jolie. Sure they are celebrities but that doesn't make their age-defying face and bodies superior to us non-famous forty-somethings. These celebs are over forty and if that's what "40" looks like for them then it should be attainable for me also. What makes them so special? Of course these ladies get laser peels, juvederm and botox injections, but I consider that as a reality of maintenance after age thirty. Just because I covet their monopoly on the fountain of youth doesn't mean I'm brainwashed. I don't want wrinkles. And who decided after forty I should want to look my age? What does that look like, anyway?  We might as well argue I ought to want to look I do straight out of the shower.  I mean, that is my most 'natural' appearance.  We all have thresholds about our looks as to what is socially presentable. Hiding our age is no different than wearing spanx to suck in our muffin tops, or getting our hair dyed to cover the greys. No one glares at grandma when she goes for her weekly shampoo-set or looks sideways at  tweenagers that slather on four layers of the wrong color foundation to conceal their acne, it's all a facade. We do what we gotta do and can still play bunco.

1. No bikinis over the age of 40...Elasticity...There isn't a P90X workout in the world that will put the snap back into those areas that time, childbirth, and gravity have removed it from.  I solemnly swear to wear nothing more risque than a tankini.

I promise you I am not offending anyone in my bikini except my teenagers. After birthing five children I never had the time to get in shape enough to wear one until my youngest was three years old. I deserve to wear it after all the carbohydrated sacrifices, fat and sweat I worked off at the gym. And I will wear this bikini, dangit, until the day (as you say) my junk starts jiggling or sagging out of it-- but I have a secret contingency plan already lined up, so...

2. I will not answer the door or do yard work in only a jog bra and shorts.

And I solemnly swear to not answer the door without my makeup and hair did...though a jog bra and shorts looks really cute with ugg boots, btw.

4. I will never wear a skimpy sundress with cowboy boots and braids in my hair.

Oh my gosh, but that look is soo adorable! Especially on a hot summers day over a bikini. Clearly we just have different taste, Lynda. I still think we can make this friendship work.

5. I won't pretend to like my children's music so they will think I'm cool...Just admit that you haven't been up to date on the music scene since Cyndi Lauper was a headliner and move on.

I will never pretend to like any music I can't karaoke to. Fortunately I don't have to feign liking my kids' music because  I am a closet bubble-gum pop fan (outing myself for the sake of this post) and always will be. FYI, we haven't moved very far beyond Cyndi Lauper and I can catch you up on the music scene really quick; Justin Bieber's got some pipes but his girlfriend Selena Gomez is easier to sing along with. Taylor Swift is a musical genius albeit her vocal range is a tad limited. Now Beyonce is insanly talented while Rhianna should probably lay off the autotune but  Lil wayne and Eminem just need to wash their mouths out with soap. There you have it.

6. I will not dress from the Junior's section at the mall.  I'm just going to break your heart right now.  Your thighs will not fit into those junior jeans....  Stop trying to look like you're buying a prom dress and not an outfit for your 25th high school reunion.... ...I'm taking back adulthood, no Justin Bieber fans allowed.  Now, go take off the flip flops and Hollister tee shirt and put on some real clothes."

OK, the gloves are off. As long as I can slip into those cute designer jeans without blood clots forming in my legs, and as long as my rear-end is still firmly positioned north of my thighs, I will shamelessly continue to shop in the juniors department. Besides, I happen to believe that women over-forty are being  brainwashed by the likes of Dress Barn, Chicos, and Coldwater Creek--as if there is some sort of 'wardrobe  protocol' we are expected to assimilate to once we hit middle age. Many-a-time I have tried to make the leap to the "womens" section with their elastic waistbands, modest neck lines, sensible underwear, cozy velour sweats and poly-blend blazers beckoning me to come to feel the other side. I'm also purrrfectly aware that if I buy "womans" clothes I can be a size 4 instead of a 9. And how devilishly tempting, how utterly diabolical is that to seduce women by targeting their most vulnerable of insecurities?! But it works. And I see it winning over new converts every day. Except the department store's fatal mistake was allowing  Barbara Bush and Grammar-school teachers to set the fashion trends. As for those sneaky little ads in Better Homes and Gardens trying to persuade us into thinking 'comfort' is more important than looking good, pshaw. My mother taught me it hurts to be beautiful and I personally will not be proselytized by the AARP, Lee Jeans or Aerosoles shoes.


What are your thoughts, girls? Can I get an amen or a yeah, man! ...or is it just me?