Some things get better with age.
Wine, for example.
I attended a wine tasting party yesterday afternoon, and though the day was fairly unremarkable weatherwise, it was warm inside the house. There were 20+ people there, and it is July afterall.
Standing there in my sundress at the kitchen island sipping delicious wine and nibbling on cheese and chocolate (good wine pairings you know), I began to glow. Then I started to perspire, as it’s said. Then I was sweating. Like I was a Baptist minister at a summer revival in the heart of the South with 100 more souls to save. Alleluia! Whew, I was hot!
In any other decade, I would have been self-conscious: Are my pits wet? Do other people see me mopping my upper lip? Is there sweat dripping down my hairline?
One of the gifts of middle age, though, is the increasing disregard for what other people think. (This is what makes shopping at Wal-Mart so endlessly interesting for some less enlightened people. Those women who have no business wearing tube tops and skin-tight leggings have reached an age where they don’t care what other people think.)
This concept is the whole premise of the Red Hat Society which was founded on the Jenny Joseph poem with the line, “When I am an old woman I shall wear purple/With a red hat that doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.”
It’s quite freeing, actually. At yesterday’s party, instead of feeling self-conscious of my increasing state of wetness, I looked around and noticed everyone else was dripping wet, too.
And talking. And eating. And laughing. And generally having a good time. (It was a wine tasting. How can you have a bad time?)
That careless attitude of self-confidence in the face of weird hats and perspiration?
Another one of those things that gets better with age.