Apparently us Baby Boomer women are now called "Late" Bloomers as we are discovering ourselves again. Was I lost?
Sandra Tsg Loh wrote a book about how great it is. I was when I was between the ages of 45 to 50 and then like my vadge it stopped being great. I was nearly killed by a young lover, faced criminal charges, thrown into the street like a wild animal in full blown traumatic brain amnesia. Filed a medical malpractice case against the hospital by myself and lost natch, and in turn pending an appeal on my criminal conviction from said above charge which I committed under drugs and alcohol poisoning that I did not consent nor know of thanks to the former and yes younger lover, but hey I was arrested while in a coma! So please tell me how good it is to be over 50. **
**when I tell people that the looks on their faces is both hilarious and tragic and making people feel ashamed and embarassed is a skill set that I have mastered, which I never had needed until reaching 50. The ability to play martyr is one plus that also comes out of aging. I think it is a skill set learned from motherhood. Never had kids so I had to pick it up the hard way.
I read this yesterday and thought I have been divorced for 10 years now and much like my vagina my social life and work life are pretty dried up. We live in a youth culture and Seattle like its hip counterparts of the "it" places focuses on youth and money.
We have a belief that the mind atrophies after 55 and yet that seems to be ignored when its Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, George Soros, pick a billionaire. Apparently the loss of brain cells are compensated by the amount of zeros you can add to a check.
The reality is that like anything in America aging is gender and sexually biased. I am sure aging for those of color have their own hierarchy but they are largely invisible in the mainstream one regardless of age so I cannot comment on that issue with any familiarity. Nor can I with regards to those of the LGBT community so again I assume they have another set of issues that are undoubtedly distinct and no less significant.
And anyone who thinks that anyone can speak for anyone regardless of the group they choose to identify with, is both ignorant and oblivious. We all live to our own drummer and we all make individual choices and decisions and those can further incorporate or in fact isolate us from any group regardless. Ask Rachel Dolezaal or Bruce Jenner about that.
But when you age in America you are on your own. So when you google "Women Over 50" most of the articles center on Menopause. Well Angelina Joile seems very excited about the prospect of becoming one of the half century markers. Her explanation is of course her own as most of her decisions are. The woman is stunning and uniquely her own person but her reality of being 50 and mine are inherently different.
And we have the grandmother's club. The Hilary Clinton folks who relish that a career and life is elevated with less responsibilities. The woman was married to a President, really is that the best example you can find. Is there a 68 year old woman who was sitting at home and then invented something that Silicon Valley wet their pants over like they did with that blond bitch at Theranos?
Although it supposedly a benefit to being over 50 as we are invisible and that is freeing. It is? I still have to pay rent, pay bills, eat food and work is required to do all of those things. And I get the double benefit of being a Substitute Teacher, you can't be more invisible than that!
We are supposedly free to bite back, to interfere to be bossy boots. To reclaim our sexuality. Really with whom? My super deluxe vibrator I got at Babeland?
I read that the feminist writer Germaine Greer was another casualty of the free speech means say what we want to hear speech movement over her thoughts on Caitlyn Jenner. Thoughts that frankly I share and so does Sandra Bernhardt when asked on my favorite show, Watch What Happens Live. She thought it odd that a misogynistic, homophobic, right winger suddenly becomes a woman and is a better person? I believe that tits are not what makes you kinder or more loving. Do they do brain transplants as well?
We all have opinions and we should have the ability to have free speech. I can choose not to listen, to listen and respectfully disagree or I can choose not to give a shit. I don't really have the right to open fire, condemn, jail or imprison those whom I can't get along. If that was the case the millions in prison right now would be tripled.
I found this in the Daily Mail and thought yes regardless of our country and the pond we cross there are some things that are universal. Women are paid attention to because they are sexual, when that ceases they better be powerful, or independently wealthy, if they are none they better be dead as frankly no one gives a shit about women over 50 other than women over 50 who write idiotic false positive articles online.
Over 50? Bye bye totty, hello Invisible Woman
By Mary Gold for MailOnline
17 February 2011
When a woman reaches her half-century she becomes invisible to the opposite sex. At least, those were the very cheery findings of a recent survey conducted on behalf of an online retailer.
I wish with all my heart it wasn’t true, but let’s grasp the nettle here, ladies, because for once the pesky researchers have got it right.
It seems to be the law that you’re allowed to be sexy and over 50 only if you’re Felicity Kendal or Joanna Lumley. Any other woman over 50 just won’t register a flicker of interest with a man, whether he’s 18 or 80. It’s as though a huge guillotine has come down on the glamorous girl she once was
Don't wait: Now you're devoid of a short skirt, bus drivers may see straight through you
Don't wait: Now you're devoid of a short skirt, bus drivers may see straight through you
It doesn’t happen overnight, though. We don’t go from being a 49-year-old babe to an old boot of 50. No, things happen gradually: like the butcher who’s no longer interested in flirting with you and the taxi drivers and waiters who pretend they can’t see you when you attempt to catch their eye.
I know because it happened to me. It seems like only yesterday I was a gorgeous slip of a girl who never had to pay for her own drinks. Now, I’m an old bag in sensible shoes who’d die of thirst before anybody offered to buy me a glass of wine.
So, what are the signs to look out for that indicate men don’t see you in the same way they once did, and what can you do to cheer yourself up? Here’s my guide:
Men in your company will talk freely about the women they fancy on television, all of whom are younger than you and much younger than the man you’re talking to. Men do not do this when you are 30 because they know that expressing admiration for other women blights their chances with you. But now, blokes of 70 gush about the charms of Katherine Jenkins, 30, even though they have no chance of getting their varicosed leg over with their own wives, never mind Katherine. My advice is to say: ‘Yes, Katherine Jenkins is gorgeous isn’t she? So why would she be interested in you, exactly?’ That’ll shut them up.
If you feel miserable and invisible in England, hop on the Eurostar to Paris and you’ll realise how lucky you are. French men expect their women to be slim and gorgeous well into their 70s and in Paris they are — so you’ll look like the fat farmer’s wife in your floral skirt and sensible sightseeing shoes. May I suggest that you head for Greece or Italy instead where you’ll get your bottom pinched — even if it is skimming the pavement.
Young men will pull up alongside your sports car hoping for a little red-light flirtation and recoil in horror
It doesn’t matter how well educated you are, men will interrupt you or just talk over you now you’re 50. However much you know about the Egyptian crisis, they will suddenly say to another bloke: ‘The rugby’s been good, hasn’t it?’ They much prefer to talk to the 25-year-old woman in the group about anything at all, even if she has never heard of JFK and thinks the Cuban Missile Crisis is a rock group. And because she is not yet world-weary and is still polite, she is more willing to listen while the blokes bang on about themselves and the rugby . . . and Katherine Jenkins.
Navigating traffic now becomes hazardous. Young men will pull up alongside your sports car hoping for a little red-light flirtation and recoil in horror. Their shocked expression means: ‘What’s an old hag like you doing in a car like that?’ And please don’t be tempted to step out willy-nilly on that pedestrian crossing, because those bus drivers who slammed on their brakes for you when you were flirty and 30 and wearing a short skirt would be quite happy to squash you like a hedgehog now. Plus, you have put on a lot of weight over the years and might end up with a bill for damaging their vehicle.
Restaurants used to be proud to have you sitting in the window for everyone to see, a sort of hot-totty shop window, which illustrated what a hip and happening joint it was. Now, they lead you to a table at the back near the loos because they don’t want you to be noticed, and suspect, rightly, that we need the loo more often than we used to.
Mechanics were sorry for you when you were young, attractive and didn’t have much money. They fixed the car for £20 and when you said ‘Are you sure?’ they would wink broadly and say: ‘Oh, just buy me a drink some time.’ Now, they won’t flirt because that would be indecent, like flirting with their Auntie Marjorie. Plus, if they know you are a ‘Mrs’ they will charge what they like, because they presume your husband will pay the bill.
The flowers you receive take on a new and almost sinister significance. Forget red roses for love or white roses for an illicit relationship. Now, you’ll get a bunch of freesias smelling like an old people’s home, or a nice clematis to plant in the garden. The time to really worry is when they look like funeral flowers.
No matter how much you wiggle your bottom and stick your chest out when walking past a building site, no one will wolf-whistle, so just stop doing it. The builders might just whistle if you’ve got long hair (as long as it isn’t grey, of course), but when you turn around in delight, they’ll see your face, grimace and say: ‘Oh, sorry love.’
Do not enter competitions when over the age of 50 unless the prize you are after is a Stannah stairlift. Competition forms ask for your date of birth and I know from working in a public relations company that they want the prizewinner to be someone young and female, so they can use what they call ‘a crumpet shot’ in their publicity photos. Entries from anyone over 30, especially where the prizes are clothes or cars, go straight in the bin. Plus, over the age of 50 the word ‘crumpet’ really means a nice hot snack dripping with butter.
I think Dorothy Parker summed the whole business up very nicely when she wrote: ‘Some men break your heart in two. Some men fawn and flatter. Some men never look at you. And that clears up the matter.’