Does everyone take stock of their lives in December? I certainly do. Also because after December comes January and with it, sadly my birthday. And we all certainly take stock on our birthdays, right? I hate it that just about when I am trying to adjust to a new calender year I have to also try and adjust to being a year older. And feeling ancient. 2007 will be a hard one. I cannot even say the words yet.
I am growing old. O-l-d. I am even tempted to lie about my age. I swore I would never do that. That I would wear my years with dignity, with pride. But that fwas lush in the middle of youth. Impetuous. Arrogant. When things seemed possible, within reach, not faded images in the rearview mirror, out of my grasp. And age seemed a number and I thought folks made too much of a big deal of it all. And I thought I was above it all.
And then one day I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, "who is she? that woman?" The woman in the mirror has lines on her face. Is that a wrinkle? *gasp* "I will wear them proudly to show the world that women's lives do not end as they age. That they do not become invisible." But that was before. Now I wonder if I should spring for Botox. Better a frozen face than one with wrinkles. An approximation of youth for the certainty of age. Of old age.
And my feminist self cries. With shame and anger. Wondering what happened to her. To me. Lost somewhere within the layers of the years, the wrappings of my experiences. Am I falling prey to images and cultural shackles. Or is it all just human frailty?
Will I return soon to myself, I wonder? Slip into my skin, in whatever shape it's in and reclaim my space in life. Stake my claim and proclaim who I am...who she is...and shout it from from everywhere. With no fear? Perhaps!