What Being a 50-Year-Old Woman Means Now
What the fuck I mean
In the old days, 50 meant I could slide my bunioned toes into my Birkenstocks and let my breasts begin their descent to my knees. Then, the film American Pie introduced the term MILF.
Even though I was offended, I felt pressured to keep being sexy. Why? So, my teenage son’s friends wanted to have sex with me? Say it with me, women. YUCK!
To me, 50 is more about counting my blessings. Here’s my list of why I like being 50 today. It may be a different list tomorrow. Lists change:
- I’m not dead yet
- I’m further away from the selfish, stupid asshat who did dangerous things that I managed to survive
- I haven’t passed out drunk since high school
- Half of the world is younger than me and half of the world is older — so. I can feel young or old depending on who I hang out with
- When I miss my grandma, I can look in the mirror
- I no longer wear an underwire bra. I wear a sports bra or no bra. I cannot see the point of imprisoning my breasts or altering their outward appearance for passers-by
- No one’s called me a slut in years — not to my face
- When people are boring, I give myself permission to turn around and talk to someone else. If they’re also dull, I move down the line. Life is shorter than it used to be
- I can swear as much as I want to and still sound smart
- I’ve known my oldest friends for 40 years