We all have to come to that epiphany at some point—either cower at the notion of aging or embrace the fucker. And occasionally, a bitch slap is what it takes to put our heads in the right place.
Screw women in their 20′s! Being a woman is not cool, it’s freakin’ hot!
For those of us who stare enviously at clueless twenty-somethings with the baby-fat still in their youthful cheeks, we need to keep this in mind. It’s the women twice their age that are having all the fun, thanks to pent-up lust and unexpressed emotions. Because of our experience and renewed self-confidence (not to mention our raging hormones), we’ve become more indulgent and less inhibited on a quest for a superior sex life.
We are in a more fabulous era, where one can be playful, flirtatious—even a bit brassy and it’s all taken in jest. You can show a bit of vulnerability without the fear that you’ve giving it all away. At this age, we’re on a more even playing field, so the yin and the yang coming together is more feasible. Men and women ultimately want the same things—to be valued, respected and loved unconditionally, so taking risks becomes a lot easier.
For years we’re consumed with insecurities about our bodies. The size of our breasts, our stomachs, our nose and thighs—our brain. Were we smart enough or were we boring them to tears when they looked at us in that slack-jawed way? Of course now we know better. We know it wouldn’t have mattered if we were wearing a potato sack reciting the encyclopedia. We know that they were just picturing us naked. Sneaky bastards!
Well, here’s a new fresh hell of an insight.
Women want to get laid as much as men, only we’re a lot pickier. So why are we so scared of being on the other side of young? If we can afford to be picky, then why do we go to such extremes to hide any evidence of middle-age?
How we feel about ourselves is often how we are perceived, and nothing is sexier than confidence and a “who gives a shit” attitude. When you enter your 40’s, you’ve been there, done it and have zero tolerance for bullshit or games. You get straight to the point and skip the niceties altogether—and that no-nonsense sensibility comes in handy when weeding out the rejects and riffraff. Having maturity on your side is a great thing, because you’ll spare yourself the dumb-ass mistakes that only a novice is likely to commit.
There is much to be said about learning what really matters and then putting that into practice to use our time most efficiently—to skip over the bullshit that holds us back. Life is intense enough. Death, and the notion of aging, needn’t hang over you like a heavy cloud.
Clearly our society is plagued with the misogynous gene—that it feels compelled to ridicule any woman passed the age where she’s deemed sexually desirable to men and therefore disposable. We should all aspire to be the hot, amazing and courageous creatures we are and learn to not only accept the inevitable, but to embrace it—to see our later years as a new chapter full of new possibilities.
Different doesn’t mean bad. Being on the other side of young just means, being on the other side of young. It doesn’t mean anymore than that if you don’t let it.