Hanging in a place of prominence in every house I’ve lived in for the past 30-something years is a photo of Roy Rogers in his prime upon which is the legend:
Stinkpot,
You old horse.
Roy
Not a personally autographed souvenir from a cowboy hero, but rather a snarky Christmas gift emblazoned with amusing family references by my brother in a quintessentially Hanks way I’ve treasured ever since the morning I unwrapped the thing and got a good laugh.
It was my father who dubbed me both “Stinkpot” and “Old Horse” … and the two often went together … when I was a little kid and since neither moniker was meant to sting I’ve no resentments or emotional scars, just the appreciation for humor that runs in my blood.
Why am I sharing this today? Well … I was pecking around for a post title, came up with this one and thought an explanation might be a good lead when addressing the issues of aging women. (So I’m considering this contribution a twofer … )
It’s this from the Washington Post written by Naomi Wolf, a writer whose work I’ve followed and appreciated for yonks and whose thoughts on women resonate.
Her topic in the Post is “The Aging Myth”, and I’m liking what I read.
I had thought that getting older would be harder. The common cultural script tells us that women lose value as they age and that men will trade in their counterparts for younger versions (because, of course, that would be trading up). Middle-aged women are supposed to face the loss of their youthful selves with grief and anguish.
I look around at the magnetic and dynamic women my own age, I look at my own life, and instead that script seems more like a convenient fiction — designed, as so many aspects of “the beauty myth” are, to make women feel less powerful; in this case, just when their power, magnetism and sexuality are at their height.
I’m not claiming that “at their height” thing personally, and although there are aspects of aging I’m not exactly chuffed with I’m far from anguished, as are the women I know.
Interestingly, Wolf compares today’s messages with those cranked out by ad agencies, marketing folks and others with a vested interested in fostering self-image damage of the past and finds the present-day situation even worse for women:
When my book was published in 1991, I noted that a burgeoning epidemic of eating disorders was engulfing what should have been the feistiest, most confident generation of women ever. The field of cosmetic surgery, especially breast implant procedures, was booming. Pornography was chipping away at young women’s sexual self-esteem just as insult-ridden advertisements for anti-aging creams were shaping the way women thought about the experience of getting older. The way we looked determined our value to society.
Since then, many of the issues I warned about have, indeed, gotten worse. The body size of fashion models and starlets has dropped still further; fashion ads showcase women who look as if they should be hospitalized. The technologies of cosmetic surgery have become so commonplace that there are communities in which women with unreconstructed faces are seen as bucking the norm. Breast surgery is almost universal in pornography, and pornography is almost universal in the sexual coming-of-age of both young women and young men; those images now have greater impact than they did when I wrote the book.
The good news, however, is that we’re not buyin’ it, or at least not in the wholesale ways we once went like sheep to the slaughter. She calls it a “substantial subset” and sites a study that reports about 30% as “change agents” … women “who are defining beauty for themselves”.
How this translates to both men and young women is a question, but I have to wonder if it’s one we need bother asking.
If I look like a crone to a twenty-something chickie-pooh should I feel somehow less-than? In actuality, I’m more-than and if she chooses not to notice the accumulation of wisdom and wit she still might catch the reflection that is herself in time.
If my age makes me invisible to a man whose vision is limited to the firm and perky is there some mandate stating I must react with self-flagellation with a sack of insecurities and regrets over what I no longer have at my disposal?
There is only one alternative to aging and that involves a deep hole and a box, so beating myself up over the rings of my tree … even if they add a bit of girth … seems a waste of time and an endeavor meant only to add to frown lines.
Ms. Wolf goes into some detail on the advantages of aging, and I don’t disagree:
On the street, young women are told: Give me some. Older women hear: I love your eyes. That is not a bad trade.
Since I hear that quite often, I’ll settle for being how old I am … until I’m older.
Here’s lookin’ at you, Kid …
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
oh now you’ve got me going again with lots to say! tell me you’re surprised?!
one thing that stands out is her reference to what other females think. so all that plastic and stuff is really to impress the other women in our lives. from my observations, guys don’t measure beauty or attractiveness that way. they might respond physically and chemically to raw in-your-face sexuality but it is a fleeting, temporary situation which will not endure.
I’m not so sure it’s to impress other women. Guys seem to measure attractiveness in individual and often confusing ways … even to themselves … so is it possible women considered are a more reliable mirror?
people in general are confusing, to others and themselves, a good bit of the time. confidence in wise counsel is not gender specific. there are reliable and unreliable folks in both male and female categories.
surgical alterations, people starving themselves, lots of makeup and strange clothes. it’s impossible for me to peg what would drive those behaviors, as they do not make sense.
if we think back to say, 2,000 years ago, people were able to successfully mate and perpetuate the species without any of those alterations. even in the pioneer days 100 yrs ago or so, there was no access to regular baths, clean clothes or bedsheets. hot water, air conditioning. and yet people still felt attraction for one another, fell in love, married, had families.
Keep in mind, though, Amy, people lived much shorter lives and didn’t have images of what they ‘should’ be shoved down their necks on an hourly basis and the concepts of partnering were far different than they are now. There’s a lot of stress in the mandates to be ‘happy’ and ‘pretty’ for 80 years our ancestors never considered either possible or necessary.
That’s a lovely story about the humorous terms of endearment, Sandra.
Ms. Wolf does make some great points, however, if I had a magic wand, I’d settle for a late 40s model, but since I don’t I’ll just have to accept what Is because (I too) prefer that over the alternative you mention.
Life is so interesting.
The 40s would be my pick, too, Marianne.
Happy Trails To You for posting this! My pick would be 40’s, probably the 1940’s.
You only pick that decade because you want to wear a hat …
true enough about the lifespan and media differences. somewhere along the way tho, I missed girly class. I mean really, what’s the deal with $1200 handbags? and my Grandmother was always beautiful. My mother often said she was born either 100 years too early or 100 yrs too late. it is my full intention as a woman of mature years to get away with as much as absolutely possible. like poking people in the butt with my cane and such. and wearing hats.
~laughs..then smiles~
As a fellow woman who is not giving into the crap about getting older, bravo! And now, I too know a little background to the nick-name my parents have for me! Great post.
Thanks, Leslie.