Age is But a Number

My mother past away a few months shy of her 65th birthday. She would have loved to celebrate turning 65. See, to my mom growing older was never something she minded. (Other than the fact that her mother had alzheimer’s and she had a worry it would happen to her —dying at 64 from lung cancer she found that the positive side was that having dementia or alzheimer’s was not an option. She could find the positive in anything. As soon as she celebrated the age of whatever age was needed for a discount she proudly declared she was that age, to receive the discount of course. Hmm, so maybe it was just a good discount she appreciated.

A little over a year after she died someone I knew was celebrating their 65th birthday and when asked how they would celebrate the response was she has no plans and may just cry all day. All I could think about was how I wished my mom had a 65th birthday. 

It’s poetic to me that the American Cancer Society’s slogan is now “Official Sponsor of Birthdays”. I agree that birthdays should be celebrated, because the alternative is real and sucks.

Last month I turned 39. Just in case you were wondering.

When I was about 16 years old my mom’s boyfriend’s daughter came to live with us for a short time. I would have referred to her as my stepsister but those who know me well and from back then might wonder when my mom got married — (I did respect him like a stepfather though). Anyway, Jeannie was 30. From the moment I remember meeting her I remember thinking that now that 30 had a face to me it wasn’t old at all. She was hip, cool and fun. 

When I was 22 I worked with a few 40 year olds who also gave me a face letting me know that 40 was no old. In fact, 40 is confident, knowledgeable and also fun. It’s Josephine’s face that sticks out in my mind though, she was a naturally, confident, talented beautiful woman. There was only one thing that set her apart from Pam, another confident, talented beautiful and fun 40 year old woman who I worked with and who I actually felt more connected with. Josephine wore no makeup. Not a brush of eyeliner that I recall or lipstick. 

I have never been a big fan of makeup, maybe in opposition that my mom wouldn’t leave the house until “her face was on”. There was a clear moment in my mind that I thought to myself when I am 40 I want to be confident enough in my appearance to not wear makeup. This morning, at 39 and a few weeks old I looked into the mirror and saw extremely tired eyes looking back. I put on makeup to try to cover it up all while in my head I knew that the only way to truly cover them up is to get more sleep. Most days I do, indeed, go out of the house with no makeup on, especially in the summer, but more often than not I put on a little eyeliner and shadow. 

My goal for the year, something I have just now consciously decided, is to get more sleep. Enough talking and thinking about it, now is the time for me to do it. Because when I’m 40 I want to be a younger woman’s Josephine….especially if it’s my daughter’s.