Hold On To Your Crown 

Warning

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE 

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

- Jenny Joseph

Affirmative Aging

As we age, we naturally change. Change, after all, is the essential stuff of life. If we embrace it with magnanimous grace and good humor, as part and parcel of the ongoing mythic adventure of our path, we stand to gain great satisfaction in the process. 

Recognizing and accepting the inevitability of aging does not mean giving up on any attempts at improving our outward appearance, physical health, mental outlook, emotional balance and general well-being. More than ever before, women of a certain age are taking better care of our Selves, conscious of a newly mature imperative to lovingly nurture and protect every aspect of our beings.

We accept the responsibility for our own sustenance and satisfaction: physically as well as mentally, emotionally and spiritually. My sister midlifers - many of us for the first time ever- are pursuing programs of nutrition and fitness. We are eating better, sleeping and exercising more, learning how to release our stress, pursuing spiritual connection and allowing ourselves to fully express our creative natures.

We are working hard to stay healthy and active, and are, at the same time, more realistic in our ideals, more accepting of our own perceived imperfections, and more forgiving of our weaknesses. While some of us do go to the starvation-botox-surgical-extremes of trying to stay forever young, in general, we follow fewer fad diets and adopt more sensible, sustainable and ultimately successful life-style changes.

We gradually heal ourselves of old destructive patterns, stinking thinking and nasty habits. And then, voila! The rewarding result of feeling well - inside and out - is looking well. We wise women of a certain age know that there is a difference between looking young and looking attractive - between, for that matter, looking attractive and being attractive.

It gets easier as you get older. You accept yourself

for who you are - your flaws and your attributes.

It's easier to live in your own skin.

- Barbra Streisand

More and more of us are refusing to condescend or conform to the adolescent and exploitative standard of beauty promulgated by popular culture. We do not compare ourselves with teenage models or emaciated-lifted-stitched-tucked-injected-Hollywood-uber-beauties. It is only a disaster to loose our girlish charms if we deem them to be the exclusive path to beauty, love and fulfillment.

Our allure and sex appeal change with time - increase, even - if we allow them to. A woman is never too old to look and feel beautiful. Each age, each stage of our lives, has its particular fabulous charm. As truly mature, secure women, we strive to accept the inevitable physical changes that come with the passing of time and incorporate them into the way we present ourselves to the world.

Self-aware, Self-assured, we are transforming ourselves as we go. We glow as we grow into our full potential, and become ever more becoming. Our reinvigorated attractiveness stems from self-knowledge and enfranchisement. Our magnetic sensuality is centered in the fulfillment and satisfaction of our Self-worth. We exude the intoxicating appeal of women who are, at heart, pleased with our Selves.

The process of maturing is an art to be learned, an effort to be sustained. By the age of fifty you have made yourself what you are, and if it is good, it is better than your youth. 

- Marya Mannes

The Queen's Court is a gathering of sovereign women of a certain age - our dear peers - who graciously offer information, guidance, inspiration and encouragement to each other.

We Queens know what we know. And we know a great deal. Our experience has made us wise. So, feel free to consult with our cyber council/counsel when you are need of sage advice or wish to explore a particular topic of interest.

OK, Sisters. Spill it!  

What has aging been like for you?  

Please share your thoughts and feeling, as well as your physical experience and spiritual lessons.  

I (we all) really want to know.

Please send your responses to thequeenofmyself@aol.com

Your letters will be printed in the next Queen's Chronicles.

I do believe it is possible to create, even without ever writing a word or painting a picture, by simply molding one's inner life. And that too is a deed.

- Etty Hillesum

Robin Bady, NY; Anne Bean, England; Disband, NY and Scotland; Alessandra Belloni, NJ; Marcie Gordon, NY; Leslie Labowitz, CA; Suzanne Lacy, CA; Annie Lanzillotto, NY; Ana Mendieta, (R.I.P.); Linda Montano, NY; Lorraine O'Grady, NY; Carolee Schneemann, NY; Miriam Sharon, Israel; Bonnie Ora Sherk, CA; Elaine Silver, FL; Barbara T. Smith, CA; Annie Sprinkle & Elizabeth M. Stevens, CA; Mierle Laderman Ukeles, NY and Cecilia Vicuña, Chile; on their performances and/or performances of their work.

Margo Adler, NY, Heretic's Heart (Ebook); Melissa Chaney, CO, Finding Personal Peace: Twenty-Eight Yoga Classes for a Balanced Life (Book); Linda Mary Montano, NY, You Too Are a Performance Artist (Book); on their new publications.

Lauren Curtis, NJ; J. Ruth Gendler, CA; Meryl Meisler, NY; Karen Shaw, NY; Robin Tewes, NY; and Sally West, NY; on the exhibitions of their artwork. 

Cheryl Lynne Bradley, Ontario, Canada, on the birth of her granddaughter.

Please send your good news, achievements, accomplishments, successes and celebrations so that our international circle of sovereign sisters can send you blessings and accolades. 

"Want to look current, hip, with it ...YOUNG?" The question comes my way from magazines, websites and TV and maybe that's all I need to tell you. Of course I'm supposed to scream, "Yes!" Then read about how to do it. And buy stuff from the advertisers.

Aside from the risible dated language - what could sound older than saying "hip" or "with it?"-I dislike the question immensely. It's not a question; it's an accusation. Editors clearly think I'm not doing all I could do to pretend I'm something I'm not.

Dear Editor: I live in Greenwich Village and dress it. I wear black leggings, as I've done since I went to Sarah Lawrence, ever so long ago, which means that every seven years I'm embarrassingly modish and the rest of the time I'm quaint. 

I haven't owned a suit since 1964, when I had an actual job on a newspaper, unless you count the silly high-style thing in my closet: bright flowers in relief on a rich black background. I avoid clothes that look matronly to me, because matronly isn't my kind of old; but I also avoid duds that would make me look like someone trying to pass for young. I'm sister to the Victorian rebel protesting the bustle designed to hide the truth of her shape.

I'm not anti-artifice-I don't believe it's human nature to be natural. I indulge in Brazilian fruit blasts to add gloss and swing to my bob. But the point isn't to look younger than my 71. It's to look as wonderfully old as I can. Not old but wonderful; old and wonderful.

Old is a fact about me, along with woman, white, Jewish, agnostic, progressive, a mother, and other descriptors. It's mine to interpret and present as I wish. Increasingly we understand that identity marks may be blurry even in the lab-a neat example being the Australian person who was granted the right to be free of any gender label. It was a civil liberties triumph that old folks could take a cue from-alas, rescinded by the authorities when global excitement followed.

Is old age wasted on the old? Or is it just that there's a conspiracy afoot to make us oldies regard our very age as some horrible anomaly, off-center, deficient?

I keep coming back to gender and race. Time was when white male was the default norm in shockingly many aspects of life. I think of the magnificent pioneer in identity studies, Texas-born John Howard Griffin, who medicated himself to turn his skin dark, that he might experience the reality of being black in America in the late 50s. Oh, tragic experiment; the medicine eventually killed him. But his book Black Like Me, published in 1961, lives on, a consciousness-raiser in a class by itself.

I've written a lot about identity switches, and a group of wheelchair-dependent activists in Indianapolis once challenged me-a frisky 30-something-to experience daily life as they did. It took me only a few minutes in a chair to understand why they were making noise about the need for cutaways from sidewalk to street at every intersection. At the same time, I was cured of my dread of being chair-bound. If it happened, I would deal.

Advice to young people: shadow some favorite oldie for half a day. You'll see two things: it's hard and it's doable. And we oldies need to revisit our young selves-not just the parts that we miss but the tough stuff specific to our 20s, 30s, 40s. Goodbye to all that! 

I'm lucky. I'm alive (my mother was dead at 70) and the medical stuff is minor. I share my life with a kind, vital, very funny guy. Money issues are non-trivial, but I'm coming back as a writer, and I've reshaped my professional cooking life to reflect the realities of age. Can no longer do fourteen straight hours in the kitchen unless I take unwise amounts of Fiorinal and Adderall to counter the downward drag of arthritis. So no more catering.

A good reason to let the gray streak my hair is that I'm a wiser old if the mirror tells me the truth and others see it, too. I still leap to my feet on the bus if a pregnant woman or man with a cane needs my seat. But if some robust young un' has the manners to offer me a seat, I gratefully take it. Other riders should be grateful, too; my balance isn't what it was.

And then there's sex. In the back of my mind lurks an elderotica project, working title Silver Snatch: wrinkled skin on crumpled sheets. I want to celebrate old sex that doesn't pretend to be young sex. Tantric ceremonies involving Viagra and Astroglide. A long, slow arousal culminating in sugary heat even if the earth doesn't move off its axis. Age spots as targets for kisses.

Will anyone out there help me reclaim the word "old"? I want us to take ownership of it. We need our equivalent of the gay pride rainbow. Maybe a silver flag? We could call it Old Glory. Long may she wave.

- Nancy Weber, New York City, NY

This article originally appeared on libidoforlife.com  and is reprinted here with the authors permission.

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