Anonymous Women

I have a journal that I write in that has quotes by famous women on each page. Here is a quote by the English writer, Doris Lessing:

"...And then, not expecting it, you become middle-aged and anonymous. No one notices you. You achieve a wonderful freedom. It is a positive thing. You can move about, unnoticed and invisible."

This one struck me as especially poignant, as I have experienced this phenomenon in my own personal life.

It happened slowly, over time. A decision to let my hair go grey, allowing a few extra pounds to creep up and remain where they settled, a slight shrinking of the spine, and suddenly one day I woke up and I just didn't feel like myself. I thought I looked alright, for my age, until I saw an old photo of myself and wondered, "What happened to me?"

This morning I scared myself when I lifted my face up from the sink and said to the reflection looking back at me, "Who the hell are you?!" I try not to look too closely in the morning until I get the makeup on, then I try to smile at the face looking back at me because I know attitude counts for more than looks. And if I've learned anything from my transitions through the ages it is that, to be truly happy, you've got to get over yourself. You must one day acknowledge that you are not the center of the universe.

In a way, this aging process is a wonderful phenomenon because, as the quote says, "you become anonymous. No one notices you." There is true freedom in that, especially for women. As I observed riding home on the LIRR last night, whenever a pretty young woman walked down the aisle to exit the train, men would lift their heads and stare at her. While waiting for the doors to open, the woman would cast her eyes down, shift her weight, move her purse from one arm to another - all visible signs of her discomfort and awareness of the eyes on her.

I was that woman in my younger days. The cat calls from men driving by in trucks, whistles from men on the street, jeers in Spanish, were not pleasant compliments; they were demeaning and frightening. When I was young, this kind of attention from men would make me so uncomfortable and fearful, I would break out in a sweat. Now the only sweating I do around men is when my own body breaks out in a hot flash.

And as I begin stripping the layers of clothing off to cool down, no one is looking at my overweight midriff or my flabby arms. Yes, it truly is a positive thing - this aging. Being anonymous is not such a bad thing. As Doris Lessing put is so well: at last, "You can move about, unnoticed and invisible. You achieve a wonderful freedom."