Friday, October 25, 2019

old age part 2 -- Invisibility -- pros and cons



Remember when you were young and the world noticed you – like way too much? I'm 71 and have forgotten most things, but I definitely remember construction workers whistling.  I also remember driving in the family impala convertible with the top down, radio blaring The Temptations, while my long blonde hair flowed in the breeze. I was stopped by the police at least once a month-- "just to check my license ." If you cut out the nostalgia, and really examine what was called “unwanted male attention" in the 50's and 60's, it might now be called harassment. The term didn't exist in the 50's.  It was just "men!" Or my mother would say, "He's a real skirt chaser-- so watch out!"


It's over--invisibility has set in. It started in my fifties, so beware of the transition from the forties. It takes at least a decade to set in.  Mine started when I was 51, when I overheard two construction workers in my kitchen say, "I'll bet she was somethin'."  Did he say "was"? The past tense hit me like a brick had been thrown at my aging face. Now at 71 I've settled into invisibility. I now have fully accepted that I am as invisible as Harvey the Rabbit, but it was a slow meandering journey between 50 and 70.

The other day I was in my local coffee shop that I have visited daily for years. A woman in her twenties was in front of me and the barista said, “Brittany, I missed you yesterday.” He asked plaintively as though he'd been pining, "Where were you?”  When I got to the front of the line, I said "Hi Jose.” I’ve been in Germany for four weeks but I’m back for a latte. He looked up, smiled and said, “Oh, I didn’t notice you were gone. Welcome back!” 

The scene is a lot like the scene in the often cringingly unfunny TV showFrankie and Grace, with Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda. There is one funny scene where they are ignored by the male convenience store clerk while trying to buy cigarettes. All of his attention is diverted to an 18-year- old girl in a halter top. Eventually Grace screams that they are not invisible. Frankie extracts revenge by stealing the cigarettes, saying if she is invisible why should she pay.

When I was 60 and my invisibility was approaching the levels on the Topper show (if you get that reference you are the right demographic for this article), I was getting ready for a relative's wedding. I tried on high heels and also flats and asked my three sons which looked better. One said, “Mom, just wear what’s comfortable. No one is looking at you.” The other two nodded in sage agreement. This was 10 years ago when I was 60 so I was shocked. I didn’t know I was past looking at. It took my breath away.


 
Gradually by age 70, I had done a complete turnaround and found relief in my invisibility. I cut my hair so I didn’t need to blow it dry and let it go white, threw out my high heels, and only bought shoes that had support and were comfortable. I hate shopping so I gave it up. Now I wear hiking gear or exercise suits. With no one looking I gave up expensive cosmetics and facials. On a good day, I just wash my face and I wear makeup from the drug store – but only for major occasions. If I want dessert, I eat it.  If I get an invitation for a dinner or wedding and it says “formal attire,” I just wear what I wore to the last formal occasion, because no one will notice I am wearing it again.  I no longer feel I have something to prove. Invisibility is freeing while simultaneously being relaxing. When designer Karl Lagerfeld said "Sweatpants are a sign of defeat," I thought they were a sign of heroic independence. I was no longer dependent on Karl Lagerfeld for low cut, short shirt, high-heeled fashion advice. 
  

Invisibility also aids in relationships with the opposite sex. For example, when a man asked for directions when I was a 20-year-old 5'8" willowy blonde with waist length hair, chances are he had another agenda. It was, as Darwin said, the jungle of sexual selection. It was up to me to figure out who was a predator and who was not. It was a nerve-wracking procedure which led to tumultuous feelings swinging from  naiveté and paranoia. Now, since mating is essentially over, I have lots of male friends of all ages that I never could have had when I was young. It would have been too risky. 

Now when a man asks me for directions, I know he is actually lost.



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