YOUR AGE SPOTS ARE SHOWING- THERE’S AN APP FOR THAT! I fucking love 45. (And Barbie’s a Bitch)

This morning I changed my profile picture on Facebook to me in a dorky Santa sweater while snow shoeing. I happened to look back through my previous profile pictures and something became clear. I’ve come a long long way with self acceptance. And it made me cry. There is no way, on Earth, Id give all that I know now to have my 25 year old body and skin back. And thats a pretty fucking amazing thing to realize.
I am in the fitness business. And lets be honest. There are 20, 30, even 40 year olds in my company that look like they walked off the page of a Barbie magazine. Big perky large breasts, tan, long blonde hair, perfect muscles, no cellulite and the whitest teeth you’ve ever seen. It can be a tad intimidating if you let it. It can be a little hard on the ego to hang around these gods and goddesses. I love my body. But lets be real- my legs are VERY short, I have cellulite, age spots, some flab here and there (its minor) and my ass seems to widen each year. I’ve heard so many comments about my ass its funny. Even funnier- I love my ass. Its mine. Cellulite, wideness, all of it. But we do live in THAT world. The world of physical expectations. The world where you need to be skinny, tall, have perky boobs and great hair and smooth skin to be considered “pretty”. I guess. But as Ive gotten older, these past few years……”pretty” has really come to mean something different.
I am soooooo guilty of objectifying men. I admit it. I love me some Daryl Dixon, Adam Levine, Chris Hemsworth. Pretty stuff is nice to look at. I also love makeup and doing my hair and getting dressed up for some events and looking “pretty”. I admit it all. And its all ok. We see with our eyes first. Our eyes take in symmetry and color and the way something looks. Even with art. I see art with my eyes first. I like the colors or the instant way it makes me feel. Like the strokes of the brush or the scenery or the subject matter. Then….the longer I look….the more beautiful the painting becomes. I start to REALLY see it. The intricate details of the sky, the “off” colors that maybe don’t make so much sense on their own…but as a whole, they make the painting what it is. My cellulite. My wrinkles. My age spots. My wide ass. My streaks of gray. All part of the bigger, beautiful picture.
When I was younger, I only wanted to date VERY attractive boys. I mean who doesn’t? Geez. I honestly never thought Id find myself single at 45 so dating was never on my radar. When I became single again I noticed very attractive men. Of course. But when you step really close and you notice there are NO wrinkles, NO “off” colors, NO crazy past, NO intricate details and NO noticeable brush strokes…..or scars…..it really is just a pretty painting. And thats it. No depth. No history. No character. No feeling. Im in a lucky place in my life. The painting is not only nice to look at…..it has all the “stuff”. The imperfect stuff. That makes you want that painting. 😉
I used to use smoothing filters a lot on social media. I used to post only pictures of me FULL of makeup and looking good. I had never ever considered using a profile picture that didn’t make me look pretty. And this morning, without thought, I posted a cheesy profile pic of me in a Santa sweater. And I have absolutely NO makeup on. None. Zip. And I didn’t “filter” it. I just posted it. And it made me cry for some stupid reason.
I still love to wear too much makeup, get dressed up, wear cute clothes and feel good. There is NOTHING wrong with that. And I wont stop doing that. Because I like it. I just hope to goodness it doesn’t take other girls 45 years to be perfectly ok with who they are…inside and OUT. Because you are, you know? Perfectly perfect….all the shit, all the wrinkles, all the cellulite and age spots and gray hair and all of it. Its perfect. Its beautiful. It is soooooooo much better than Barbie. So much better.
Barbie couldnt fit on her friend’s shoulders in the pool in Punta Cana because of those long ass legs. Barbie would miss the many tiny toe holds you have to use when you have short legs and are rock climbing. And that would mean she misses the experience. Barbie doesn’t have C-Section scars. And THOSE are the best scars ever. I’d still kill to have an elevator in my condo and a pink corvette but other than that….Barbie can keep her shit. Cuz I like mine!
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