This is NOT a Fashion Post: Bella Heart-to-Hearts about Feeling Over Forty
Let's talk, friends. Not about BEING over forty years old. About FEELING over forty years old.
I AM feeling it- and I'm going to be blunt with you- sometimes it doesn't feel so good. Or empowering, or the awesome-est. Sometimes, on some days it feels shitty. My body aches, and my joints hurt, and I can visibly see signs of aging: sagging skin, baggy eyes, age spots, gray hairs, and the ever constant thickening middle. I'm no Madonna, Demi Moore or Helen Mirren. Nobody is saying wowzahs at my bathing suit pictures, well, at least in polite company.
That said, I've got a good point to make in all this gripe talk. So bear with me a bit. I am of that certain age, where one doesn't have the shine or glamor of one's youth- I am banged up, dented and my history shows its marks. My age shows. Perhaps I should distract myself, and you by showing you all the new things I bought, my newest boots, or purse, or coat. But under the new bags, or boot, are the same tell-tale signs of gray hairs, crow's feet and other signs of gravity the betray my membership into the +40 club.
But here's
the good thing: regardless of my my age or my looks, I am still ME. The
me who likes stripes and plaids and polka dots, who loves the pairing of
brown boots with a gray dress, who prefers odd accessories and quirky
styles. Who cuts her own hair, in spite of the fact that she's been
saying that she's growing it out, FOR OVER TEN YEARS NOW, and has
recently hacked it to its near last breath. The "I" who rocked her all
black micro mini/crop top with docs (and big pull-back hair and Sade red lipstick) in the eighties is still alive and
well, but thankfully has grown a sense of modesty. My crooked smile, my
now chubby cheeked grin still expresses "me." And while I struggle with
the hardball fact of aging, I still want to celebrate me in all my
decades, all my phases.
So
I'm not going to pretend my outfits worn are ones like those worn by
fashion plates, or that I could double as a model off-duty. Nobody does a
double take at me or my outfits when I enter a room. No big brand is a
calling for me to collab with their next blogger/brand campaign. I would even venture to say, that me, and this blog are nowhere near "fashion relevant." Maybe
it is at this point where I could stop taking pictures of myself and
stop posting online.
But I'm not
going to stop. Because all of me, the ageless self, and the
ageing body both agree: Style is eternal- and you don't need to be a
born beauty to celebrate it. What you do need is the urge to express,
and to dress accordingly. So I celebrate my chubby little face, full of
its inevitable age spots and full jaw line, I'm going to celebrate the wrinkly
hands, the thickening ankles and the double hourglass.
The sum is greater than its parts: 80% Thrifted. 100% Rosebud
Now Wearing:- vintage 60s cardigan, gifted
- the Carolyn c/o Karina Dresses
- vintage leather/brass belt, thrifted
- thrifted rings
- tights, similar HERE
- brown leather boots, thrifted
Linking to the fabulous Patti for Visible Monday