Jo Stanley (left):“After a lifetime of worrying about looking,thinking,acting,dressing,loving and mothering in just the right way,suddenly I don’t care.”@realjostanley
I’ll admit it – being 50 is almost unfathomable to me. I’d guess none of us feel the age on our birth certificate. Mostly I feel about 41,sometimes 30. After three or four cocktails I feel a fabulous 25 –the morning after,I’m 87. Or my knees are.
Being 50 and female is harder to grasp. I’ve heard us described as “women of a certain age”,as though even saying the number is taboo. Or an incantation summoning that terrifying spectre – the Middle-Aged Woman. She’s angry,sexless and insane!
Except I’m none of those things. I’m fierce,independent and free.
As I sit here,fondling a whisker,considering what my next decade will look like,I feel something I’ve never felt before,something I have identified in other women of my generation – we no longer care what anyone thinks of us.
After a lifetime of worrying about looking,thinking,acting,dressing,loving and mothering in just the right way,suddenly I don’t care. I don’t care if you think I’m too fat,too thin,too ugly,too old,too dumb,too smart,too sexual,too loud – I’ve felt all those things.
But now,I feel powerful instead. I reject any stereotype about who I’m supposed to be. In fact,50 is ours for the defining,and we are many versions of ourselves,all at once.
No doubt we’re tired and cranky. We’re managing career and family logistics equal to that of a war zone,and the mental load takes its toll. So yes,I weep at strange moments and sometimes accidentally yell.
At the same time,though,I’m more productive than I’ve ever been. I’m focused,confident and driven,because it turns out that when you free yourself of other people’s opinions,your own voice inside you gets very clear and strong. So now I have a clarity of purpose that makes me unstoppable.
I reject any stereotype about who I’m supposed to be. In fact,50 is ours for the defining,and we are many versions of ourselves,all at once.
It’s true that we women of a certain age can be a little outspoken. I have zero tolerance for bullies,idiots and liars. I’ve developed a sixth sense for spotting them,and don’t care who I take on. But equally I have a passion for changing the world. I feel an urgency to make a difference for our planet,and those on it who are vulnerable. And honestly,if I can’t use my unapologetic,often sweary rage for the good of others,what is it for?
Other clichés and contradictions hold true,too. My ageing ears suddenly find the music in my gym way too loud. Same goes for fashion boutiques. As a former ’90s raver you’d think I’d be embarrassed to admit that,except I don’t care. And me and the girls still blast tunes in my kitchen till 2am,when my teenager will storm downstairs and tell us to turn it down because someone is trying to sleep! Oh bless. Sorry,don’t care.
Our bodies are a challenge. We’re developing health concerns that belong on our parent’s medical records. High cholesterol,high blood pressure,very unglamorous gut issues. The only thing decreasing faster than the height of our heels are our food choices.
But for the first time in my life,I eat what I want,no guilt,which sometimes means cake for breakfast. I exercise because it makes me feel good,rather than look good. And I love my body because of what I can do with it,not how you see it.
We are courageous. I’m surrounded by women who are re-entering the workforce or changing careers,studying for the first time or starting businesses – taking real risks to follow dreams they’d long ago suppressed.
And we are sexy – but in ways you don’t see in the movies. I see women choosing to leave relationships that haven’t worked for years,regardless of the brutal pain of separating,and the prospect of serious financial strain and loneliness,to rebuild their lives so they might find a love that honours their needs for the first time ever. If that’s not sexy,I don’t know what is.
There is great privilege in getting older. Most of us,by 50,carry the numbers in our phones of dear
friends we have lost along the way. We remember them in fun runs and annual lunches,but our lives are also a tribute to those women.
And so I feel intense gratitude as I emerge to become the me I’ll be at 50,and beyond. I’ll live life my way. And I’ll celebrate every other woman as she lives hers. I see you – and you’re perfect as you are.
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