I’ve been thinking about normal lately. The word and the concept, I mean. It’s something that I ponder from time to time because I’ve never been normal, have never considered myself normal, and have never had the luxury of passing for normal. I have been a weirdo from the time I was a little kid, and I’ve only gotten weirder since.
There was a question on the weekend thread over at Ask A Manager about what a person in their (probably her) 30s can look forward to as they grow older. Things people had wished they’d been told. Something like 90% of the commenters are women, so there were a lot of answers from that point of view.
There was talk about things sagging and things hurting. Also talk about needing more beauty products as you got older. It was odd because it was exactly the opposite of what I’ve found to be true. There was a thread about Botox as well, and it just all made me really sad.
Now, I want to preface this by saying I have really good genes. I’m Asian, and we do not age (until 70s or so, and then it doesn’t really matter). I look ten years younger than I am and have not used any beauty products in decades. No moisturizer, no toner, no tonics or anti-aging creams. I don’t even use soap on my face except when I take a shower, which is every third day or so.
I have done some research, and it is becoming more acceptable to state that the beauty industry is peddling a big lie. There are some doctors who think we don’t even need to shower at all because our bodies balance by nature. I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I only shower as I said every third day or so.
If I spent more time outside, I would use sunscreen for sure, but that’s about it. and my skin is great. Still resilient and supple. Not dry and thin as many older people have stated. The back of my hands are a bit more crepey than before, but that’s it. I look a good ten years younger than how old I am, and my boobs are as bouncy as before. My hair is shiny and glossy, and it’s lusher than it was before.
What I’m trying to say is that I’m better than before. And I’ve given up using any products. I never used them much, but now I’m as free as a bird. I don’t care. I am not spending that much money on a bunch of tosh.
Also, some people were mentioning your body just starting to hurt more when you got older as if it were inevitable. It’s true that the body slows down, but it’s not necessarily true that you have to be in pain. I’ll get to that in a minute.
I was going to write this long answer, but I decided to make it a post instead because I knew that I would have a lot to say and that it would be diametrically opposite of what everyone else would say.
I would tell this person not to give a damn what anyone else thinks about their life. I have had a major realization each decade of my life. When I was 22, I realized I didn’t have to have children. Not only that, I didn’t WANT children. That was still the biggest decision of my life, well, at least one that was to the negative (meaning not to do something). I can still remember what a sense of relief I felt when I made that realization.
The revelation in my thirties that I didn’t want to get married wasn’t as revolutionary, but it was still a relief. I was raised with the belief that my duty as a woman was to get married and have children. My mother was exceedingly old-fashioned in this matter (for complex and elaborate reasons), and she pestered me for fifteen years to have children. When I hit forty, she gave up on me spawning, but then started pushing me to marry a man so I would have a husband to take care of me in my old age. That’s really rich coming from her. She takes care of my father almost every minute she’s awake. When she had shoulder surgery, he was not able to care for her and actually was harmful in pooh-poohing her pain (because it took away from him, obviously). Plus, if I were to have a long-term partner, it wouldn’t necessarily be a man. Which is neither here nor there because….
My forties showed to me that I did not want a long-term monogamous relationship. The reasons for why is complicated, but they include the fact that I am too hot and cold. I love intensely, and then I push away. It’s because of my upbringing, and I’m getting better. However, when I’m in love with someone, I think about them way too much. I focus too much of my attention on them (thanks, Mom) and I have no room to breathe.
Honestly, there are more important things to me. I could put in the work to get to the point where I can have a long-term relationship, but I don’t want to put in the effort. Right now, I would be happy with a few sex buddies with whom I can have a good meal as well. I don’t want to live with someone because I like my own company. And my cat. I love my friends and expect that they’ll be there for the rest of our lives, but I would not want to be with someone all day long every day.
What has been my big reveal for my fifties? Well, that’s a really big one, too. This is the decade I died twice. This is not something to take lightly. This is the decade I realized my body is fucking amazing, and I have no time or patience for my old body issues. I will not allow anyone, including me, to say a negative thing about the body that carried me through the darkness.
In tandem, my best positive decision was starting Taiji at 35–or around there. It’s because of Taiji that all my body aches are gone. My mom recently told me that the one back stretch I taught my father has made it so he doesn’t have to have his third back surgery. I was preaching about Taiji in the latest Krupa stream because I believe so fervently in it. It has changed my life, and it has seen me through death.
So, yes. This decade’s realizations have been huge. No more body hatred. My body is a beast and I am so proud of it. I’m cute AF with my Betsey Johnson glasses, and you cannot say shit to me about my physical look. I’m fat? Hell, yeah! That fat is what cushioned me as I was unconscious for a week.
I am in better shape than I have been for the rest of my life. I like myself much better now that I have in any of the past four decades of my life. And I’m still grateful for each bonus day I have to live.
I know my situation is unique, but I hope others can learn from it even though (hopefully) they will never go through it. Your body is a wonderland and you are fucking amazing. And you’ll only get better with age.