As a young woman, I was somewhat pretty, with a smallish frame, and a great Farrah Fawcett hairstyle. I did take care of myself - but I wasn't full of myself. I knew I was not unattractive, and I could hold a decent conversation.
I walked everywhere. Around the neighbourhood, along the beach, through the malls, downtown, through the market. A regular occurence was a stare, a second glance, sometimes a whistle, or some crass cat call. It bugged me, but I just assumed it was part of life, and boys would be boys, and dirty old men, would be dirty old men. You learn to live with it.
Even into my 30's and 40's I remained attractive, blessed with barely a wrinkle, in average shape, and a great hairstylist. I still received a "look" now and then, the nervous conversations, and suggestions to "get together". I was married, for gawdsakes, but that didn't seem to stop them. I put on a few extra pounds in my late fourties, (which felt like 100 extra to me), but it was still the norm for me to be approached for mindless chit chat, deep conversations, an occasional flirty encounter by all ages of men. I recall one time, sitting at the bar in Kingston with a friend, and an older gentlemen leaned over, smiled, and said "gosh I wish you were older". It was sweet, and made me laugh.
I recently turned 60, and I've noticed that things have changed somewhat. The hair is now grey, and there are several more extra pounds to deal with. But I digress. I was sitting outside with a friend the other day, and a young man came by and the three of us were engaged in a casual converation. After a few minutes a younger friend of ours came by and joined us. The young man immediately switched his attention to our young friend. Our attempts to contribute to the conversation were futile - we were totally ignored. He carried on the casual chat with her for a few more minutes, eventually said his good bye's and left. I remember thinking. That was odd. And frankly, a bit rude.
A few days later I was outside fixing something on a gate, and a nice looking young man was approaching with his dog. I turned and smilled and he smiled back. I said "nice day for a dog walk"! He responded with a smile, "it sure is" and kept walking Just as he was getting close to the building, our younger friend comes out the door, and the young man literally stopped in his tracks and mumbled some nonsense to her. I laughed, and added something to his comment. He totally ignored me and directed the rest of his conversation to her. The encounter continued for a few more moments, and then he left. I remember thinking again. He totally ignored me. That was odd. And honestly, a bit rude.
Then I remembered a conversation I had with a dear Psychology Professor friend of mine, back in the early 2000s about love, life, relationships, and aging. He told me "it's very strange - one moment you are young and attractive, and meet all kinds of interesting people - the next minute you turn 55, and you seem be at that invisible age. No one notices you, no one seeks you out for conversation in a social gathering. You are quite literally, invisible"
Then it hit me. I had reached that "invisible" age.
Inside, I still feel young, reasonably attractive, and definitely approachable. I am bursting with interesting conversations, just waiting to be had. However I realize now, that on the outside, I'm a piece of the furniture. I'm just there. A #fatoldgreyhairedlady that no one pays any attention to any more.
I'm ok with it - I'm a bit of a home body, and I do appreciate solitude and alone time. But I found it a bit sad. Sad that age changes us physically so much that we fade into the back ground and become invisible.
Word of advice: youth and beauty fade quickly. It's gone before you know it.
So you better have a great personality, lots of interesting conversations, and dear friends to have them with, to hold you over into old age.
