well, well, well.

Look who we have here, growing again.

Yup, those are bright green baby leaves that are shooting out of Pandora's plant.  The one I so mercilessly yet tearfully sawed down.  A bright-green metaphor that took over my life last fall.  And it's back. 

Toldja so.

thanks! ...I think?

In my usual fit of Sunday night procrastination, I decided that grocery shopping and cooking more food than I could (or should) possibly eat would be an appropriate activity rather than boring expense reports or paying bills.  So I was milling around in the wine aisle of Publix near closing time, when a cute, young guy working there stopped buffing the floors long enough to advise me that "you know, you need to be at least 21 to drink."  I laughed and for lack of anything better to say, responded with, "Thanks, I'm working on that."  

On the surface, that seems like an innocuous, mildly flirty compliment.  So at first I was all, "awww, that was cute/sweet/kind!"  But then, that *other* part of my brain was all, "Kind?  Yeah.  That's because he instantly pegged you as someone old enough to want a compliment about how young she is."  Ouch.  That part of my brain pulls no punches.  

This happened roughly 24 hours after I was seriously macked on in a bar by a VERY young looking sailor, who allegedly thought I couldn't possibly be "older than 25".  (Okay, it was pretty dark in there.)  Now, I'm not saying I believe every line I hear, but he was literally gobsmacked when I told him my actual age.  Jaw dropped open and everything.  He even took a step closer to inspect this fossil of a woman trying to pass herself off as a much younger person, such was his disbelief.  

Thing is, I'm NOT trying to pass myself off as a 25-year-old.  That would be impossible, first of all.  Also useless.  I have no use whatsoever for a 20-something man-child, unless he feels like helping me rearrange heavy furniture or cleaning my garage.  We'd have nothing in common, and one or both of us would get bored with the other rather quickly.    I have recently spent some quality time with folks about 10 years younger than me - that seems to be about the outer limit.  We manage to have things in common, understand most of the same humorous references in pop culture, and even share musical tastes.  But even with only a decade between us, we're already at different stages of life, and one party always ends up feeling not accomplished enough, or too established to start over, creating an imbalance that would prevent any kind of serious relationship from ever developing.  Or so I suspect.  (Haven't tried yet, just not in that frame of mind right now.)  What I'm trying to say is that I don't even WANT to be 25 again.  

I was an asshole at 25.  Even at 30.  I don't like who I was then.  I was not very introspective or self-aware.  I was still so outwardly focused that I didn't take responsibility for the impact my behaviors had on those around me.  The blame was always squarely laid on others.  Whereas now, at 41 (yeah, I said it. I own that shit.), I try first to look at myself before I assign the blame for anything on anyone else.  I try to make sure I'm not "that annoying person" who just blasts through life completely unaware of their flaws and bad habits, spewing them everywhere and not caring about the result. I'm now fully aware (I think) of most of them.  I know I'll talk your damn ear off if you let me.  I can dominate a conversation, given the opportunity.  The difference now is, I know that I do these things and am fully aware of when I am doing them.  I try to only let that side of me loose when I know it will be useful - for example, to help others avoid awkward situations or silences.  I consider conversation to be one of my gifts (as well as curses), so I try to use it as one and not bludgeon people with it.  I try to be entertaining and share anecdotes about the crazier things in my life if I think it will uplift someone or make them feel better about what they are experiencing.  I have been thanked many times just for sharing what I write about here in my blog, which I find to be all the reward and encouragement I need to continue.

But back to the matter at hand - aging.  MY aging, to be specific.  To be honest, I don't feel like I look 'old' per se.  I don't even think I look my age.  But who does!?  I am told repeatedly that I look significantly younger than 41, which of course feeds my ego.  I don't begrudge my ego that snack - it's been starved, beaten, and abused over the years, and could use a good meal every now and then.  So I do try to accept a compliment when it is given.  But I don't necessarily buy into it.  Many people have their own reasons for giving compliments.  Like our little squidly friend from last night, for example...I'm sure he had a particular goal in mind, so even if his compliment was 100% honest, he was still working towards *something*. 

What I'm questioning these days is my own behavior though, not the motivations of the people who are complimenting me.  Anyone who knows me is aware that I spend a significant portion of my free time working out.  Zumba, running, belly dance, kickboxing, pole fitness...I am always finding something new to challenge myself with and get my body to my goal weight.  Hasn't happened yet, but I will say that I feel better about where I'm at now than where I was 10 years ago.  I work harder at it now.  I have to.  But I'm also more motivated. 

I also try to pamper myself more.  True, I am in a better position financially to do that than I was 10 years ago.  Massages, facials, high-end hair salons...I feel like I work hard enough to deserve those things.  I don't do them regularly, I have to force myself to take the time out to take care of me.  But sometimes I take it even one step further than that, and I'm borderline concerned about where it's going to stop.  This is another thing my close friends know about me: I'm a Groupon WHORE.  Yes, WHORE.  I'm not just a customer or casual user.  I'm a full-on HO for a good deal on a service I wouldn't normally pay full price for.  And I don't limit myself to Groupon.  I also have Living Social, Deal Chicken, Amazon Local...the list goes on.  And what these mass discount coupons have seemingly encouraged me to do is try anything I think might improve my self-confidence even a smidgen.  

For example, we might be talking about a weight-loss program that involves weird infra-red light waves and a pulsating thing that allegedly shakes the fat right out of your cells (yeah, sounds stupid to me now, too).  Or maybe a laser facial?  (Lasers + tender facial skin...not sure why I didn't realize there would be a pain factor with that one.)  Laser hair removal?  YES PLEASE.  Hair extensions?  Sure, I'll rock a weave.  (And I did.)  Eyelash extensions?  Yeah, I went there.  Two days ago.  Still getting used to being able to stab and/or fan people with a blink of my ridiculously long, doll-like lashes.  Everybody I look at thinks I'm flirting with them now.  They're a little over-the-top, and yet, I kind of appreciate anything that I feel boosts me to the 'next level'.  Meaning the 'next level' of prettiness, or youthfulness, or healthfulness.  Whichever.  

What's freaking me out is that I'm only 41 and I'm already trying all of these things to improve my game.  Am I still going to be so hung up on my outward appearance 5 or 10 years from now?  Quite frankly, it's exhausting.  I have so many other things I should be focusing on, and yet a good amount of my bandwidth is sucked up by trying to look good.  Will I ever be able to age gracefully?  Stop wearing the Chuck Taylor high-tops of my youth and shopping in trendy stores I have no real right to peruse (AHEM, Forever 21, I'm looking at YOU!)?  I just don't feel like I'm ready for that yet.  I'm wondering how much of this is self-acceptance vs. the acceptance of others.  Namely, a significant other.  If I were in a loving, committed relationship, would I just 'give up'?  Or rather than making it sound like defeat, would I just age gracefully and accept the inherent lack of attention and lack of coolness that comes with middle age?  I doubt it.  I know myself, and although I don't feel outwardly competitive with anyone in particular, I don't want to become an invisible middle-aged woman either.

I don't have an answer to this one yet.  I just wanted to put it out there.  And NO, I'm NOT fishing for compliments about how young I look.  So please don't post them here.  (I love you for even considering doing it, though.)  I'd be more interested in hearing from other women of various ages how they feel they are/have been perceived at various ages in their life and how much of an effect they feel their looks have on their lives, as well as how much emphasis they put on it.

I have to go now.  My magnifying mirror is calling me.