Every other week, I read an article about a middle-aged woman lamenting that she has gone invisible. That her clerks and bartenders started ignoring her that she no longer sees herself in her ads (except for those for adult diapers and arthritis gel).
You know invisibility. I he is 42 years old. Of course, you can’t get the bartender’s attention. I can’t even get social media facial recognition algorithms to look at me. Today, BeReal claimed, “Your friends will definitely want to see your face!” After posting a clear, full-face smile selfie.
But here’s the problem – I everytime I lost sight of it. Teens, twenties, thirties. Invisibility is nothing new to me.
in a recent episode unfinished In a podcast, Hugh van Cuylenburg asks, “What do you see when you look in the mirror?” His answer: old man. Or, at least, an older version of himself. He finally looks at his age (42 – same as me!) and talks about how uncomfortable it is.
However, Mr. Van Cuilenberg thinks in his self-analysis that anxiety about aging is “rather feminine.” Maybe it’s because women are used to being told how beautiful they are, and a woman’s identity is tied to her looks. “
Are you used to being told how beautiful they are? Ha! It made me laugh. I have never been called beautiful. Okay, my husband told me, but he has such poor eyesight that he doesn’t know if I’m facing him or if I’m turning his back. It is one of the duties of a spouse.
By the time I’m 90, I’ll probably be a total hottie.
I mean, I’ve never had a family member, a friend, a drunken stranger, an inappropriate boss, a creepy teacher, a public transport guy, a scaffolding trader, or social media tell me how beautiful I am. rando or someone’s nanna. nobody. Even on my wedding day, most guests just said, “What a beautiful dress.”
Don’t think I’m writing this in the hope that someone will find my image on Google. I don’t want to remind anyone that I might look prettier with makeup on.