I Don't Care If You're Old And Incontinent

I try to tell myself that age doesn’t matter; that it’s the person inside the body that counts. Age only tells how old the body is, not what the eyes have seen, or what the mind knows, or the personality it holds. Still, living in America in the second millennium, these things matter. Who are you wearing, where are you getting your haircut? Are you remembering to exfoliate? Time to take my 11-year-old to the tanning salon. We’re so consumed with our looks, and our age! Paris is the topic of discussion; The Oscar nominees, Angelina’s newly adopted child, the new pill that will help you lose weight without changing your diet or getting off the couch. I feel like our generation has lost…. Substance. We’re all so jaded and content with having washboard abs and good hair. We care only about ourselves, and the world that revolves around us.

Of course, I can’t speak for everyone. There are people out there who were fortunate enough not to grow up in a shallow society. But are these people better off? Will they be left unprepared for what the world will spit at them?

What happened to fighting for rights, giving a damn about your neighbor, doing things for other people without considering how you will benefit from it? I can’t say I’m completely innocent and that none of this applies to me. I do get up 10 minutes early to do my makeup. I worry about what other people think of the way I look. Not always. I wear what I want when I’m in the mood. I’ll go out with my hair all messed up.

My mom and I have had many arguments about this topic. I would go out with her on an errand; just get up and go. No makeup, hair up in a ponytail, t-shirt, jeans, and chucks. She would look at me; I knew it was coming, but I wouldn’t be the one to start it. She would look at me and say; “You could at least fix yourself up a little bit! Put some makeup on, put some earrings on, a skirt, sandals…” I would look at her, infuriated at the fact that she would say this to me, even though I knew it was coming. I would say, “Who am I trying to look good for? You? You see me without makeup all the time. Who am I trying to impress?” Society, of course.

Because I was always told how to dress, how to wear my hair, how to greet people with a smile, and don’t say any negative things directly to them because it’s easier when things are kept quiet and people get along. Because I was told to follow the crowd, I have become a victim of it all. I notice when people have something in their teeth, or when they could do something better with their hair. They’re bad thoughts, and I’m glad to say that I am turning it all around. I am learning to accept things and people for what they are, including myself. Slowly, but surely, I will be able to walk down Las Vegas Blvd and do yoga right there on the sidewalk. I will be able to go up to a stranger that I find attractive and kiss him flat on the lips, tongue and all. I will be able to enjoy the company of others, despite their age or the number of wrinkles on their foreheads. I’ve gotten so far already, and feel that I am very close to doing all/any of this.

Damn kids and their MTV.

This post sponsored by Amanda Palmer's blog.