A friend posted an article this morning that discussed feeling 'invisible' due to men only giving attention to women half their age. My immediate response was to point out that those men weren't worth pursuing but then I got to thinking about the 'invisible' part.
Invisibility rocks for those of us who have lived our lives with social anxiety. No one pays any attention to the tired looking, overweight woman with graying hair. It's not just men, either. Women see that you've 'let yourself go' and they pay you no mind. You're not different enough to draw contempt and you're not good looking enough to be a threat.
INVISIBILITY! w00t!
I spent most of my life wanting to blend but always managed to stand out nonetheless. It wasn't that I was such a looker. I just happened to be unusually small. 5' with an average weight of 95-100lbs draws attention whether you want it to or not. Women were the worst, though. I can't even count the number of times I would enter a situation only to be met with a stinkeye before I could even open my mouth to speak. Nowadays their eyes just slide right past me. I'm clearly not gonna be taking their menfolk.
Do I have moments when I wish I could fit into one of the old dresses still hanging in my closet because I've been too lazy to get rid of them? Or have the urge to pick up a box of hair dye when I'm in Walmart? Of course, but the feelings pass quickly when I remember all the baggage that came along with my 30 year old self's body.
Plus, I have two daughters. They have the entire world telling that they have to be perfect. They need a mom in their corner saying,"Hey. You be you. Don't worry about them." More importantly, they need a mom showing them that.
I love me some good 'beauty' products but they're all about smelling good and not having alligator skin. Scaly and itchy isn't a good time for anyone. Ten years ago I was sucked in by the products trumpeting 'REDUCE THE APPEARANCE OF FINE LINES' but now I'm immune to that nonsense. I have wrinkles and saggy skin and I'm totally okay with that.
I'll happily continue to rock my not-even-remotely-styled graying hair while wearing my XL jeggings paired with a shapeless Doctor Who tee. After all, no one can see me anyway.
I've been letting my gray grow in. It makes me feel like my age is legitimate. I can go pick up a bottle of Nyquil, and the cashier doesn't bother to ask for my date of birth. She just takes one look at me and punches in "1930" in the year spot. :))
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