Age Appropriate According to Who?
Today I changed my top four times.
Two years ago, I ruptured the bursa sac in my elbow. I tripped over some production equipment that fell in my path. If you’ve never done that, I don’t recommend it. It leaked fluid into my arm until my elbow looked like I was smuggling a golf ball under my skin. Four drainings, and one more ultrasound procedure just last week…..
And the doctor’s instructions?
“Compress it for eight weeks.”
Translation…Congratulations! You can no longer put your hair in a ponytail, and your right arm pit might not smell as good as the left now that you can’t apply deodorant.
Now, this wouldn’t be quite as inconvenient if I weren’t left-handed!
Try drawing on your eyebrows or putting on eyeliner when the arm you’re supposed to use is compressed so tight it bends about as well as a two-by-four. Even more exciting is waking up with your left hand looking like a baseball glove because the compression sleeve decided circulation was optional.
At this point I’ve accepted that I may just have an ugly left elbow. Surgery is probably the only permanent fix, and I highly doubt I’m doing that.
Oddly enough, though, the elbow wasn’t what made me change my shirt.
It was my arms.
For the past year I haven’t done any upper-body workouts because I didn’t want one arm looking like Popeye while the other looked like Olive Oyl.
The result?
Both of them deflated.
I used to love my arms. They had just enough muscle, and my armpits didn’t resemble…well…that other body part women would rather not discuss.
Now I put on a sleeveless top, looked in the mirror, and immediately started digging through the closet for sleeves. No matter how hot it is!
The funny thing is, just a few days ago I caught myself judging someone else’s outfit.
Someone my age posted a picture wearing something I personally never would have worn. Okay. Lies! It was something very similar to what I wore to a record release party THIRTY YEARS AGO! My first thought was, That’s a young woman’s outfit. My second thought, That’s a thin woman’s outfit.
Then I stopped.
Who appointed me to the Fashion Police?
The truth is, we all have our own list of things we think are “age (or size) appropriate.”
I wear ripped jeans. Some people probably think a woman in her 60’s should leave those to the twenty and thirty-somethings.
Too bad.
They’re comfortable, they’re soft, and somewhere inside me lives a hippie beach bum who refuses to accept she resides in the suburbs!
I also used to love my legs.
Then they turned into a road map of blue veins.
I tell myself that’s why I don’t wear shorts.
Well…that and the fact that years ago I was walking on the beach when a dog launched itself at my thigh and bit right through my jeans. Had I still been wearing shorts I had on earlier, it would’ve been much worse. Ever since then, exposing my legs has come with a tiny bit of anxiety.
But if I’m honest…
The veins probably bother me more than the dog.
Fast forward a few years to today and changing tops four times.
Not because I couldn’t decide what to wear.
Because I couldn’t decide if I was brave enough to wear sleeveless.
Then of course, I spiraled, and I stood there wondering what society thinks women my age should be wearing.
Meanwhile, on some resort, Pop Pop is parading around the pool looking like a topless pregnant woman in Speedos with his nuts dragging on the concrete!
Where’s the line between dressing for your age…and dressing for your confidence? Pop Pop at the pool seems to have more than enough to go around.
But thinking about pops brings to mind this little tidbit of information…. The tighter the spandex, the more transparent it is! I have seen plenty of asses in front of me on escalators at LAX that probably thought they were covered. I’ve seen less cracks in sidewalks and old buildings!
Everything isn’t flattering on everybody. That’s true whether you’re 25 or 65. Body type matters. Personal style matters. Comfort matters.
But confidence matters too.
Maybe “age appropriate” isn’t really about age at all.
The older I get, the more I realize “dress your age” is one of those invisible rules nobody voted on, yet millions of women seem to accept and follow.
Here’s my new rule:
Dress for your life.
Dress for your body TODAY.
Dress for your confidence—or dress despite your lack of it.
Wear the shorts.
Wear the sleeveless top.
Wear the ripped jeans.
Wear the hot pink dress.
Or don’t.
Maybe it’s about wearing what makes you feel like yourself. Sleeveless today didn’t make me feel like myself. Well, it made me feel like screw the elbow and start lifting weights again!
Definitely wear what makes you feel like yourself.
Just make sure the decision belongs to you and not some imaginary committee handing out citations for showing your knees after 60.
I’m going to go back to working out my arms and will likely sport a compression sleeve for the rest of my life on the left arm, but above it, trust and believe, the muscles will return. Not doing the old lady arms over here!
After all…
It’s hot as hell.
I don’t know about you, but I’m done dressing to make other people comfortable. That said, I highly recommend mirrors and honest friends!