fierce

I’ve either become surrounded by, or have started taking notice (a whole shit ton more) of women over the age of 40 who are just stunning. They’re downtown, fetching groceries and the like with their sassy grey hairs and cute orange mini skirts over leggings. They’re on the paths I walk to and from work, speeding past me on their bikes in great floral shifts and hair wraps and army boots. They’re my neighbours who work on their yards every weekend in wife beaters and skater shorts and pearls and perfectly selected lipstick. They’re at the establishment at which I tend bar in gorgeous chartreuse linen dresses and asymmetrical hair cuts and thigh high leather boots and they’re letting their curls go wild.

They’re never attached to a partner.

They’re all shapes and all sizes and don’t seem to give a fuck about looking like super models.

They’re femmes doing THEIR things.

They are FORCES.

They are aging FIERCELY and I love it.

I want to be besties – BFFs FOR LIFE – with every single one of these women.

On the odd occasions I actually get to engage or be engaged by these grandes dames, I feel starstruck, bashful, in AWE for a few seconds before I pull myself together enough to string together a coherent something that might lead to an actual conversation.

Perhaps it’s because I’m nearing that age that I take notice more. I remember acutely being in my mid-twenties and finally being ok in my skin. I remember reconciling that I’d never be a skinny chick and became decidely bloody-minded about putting my best self out to the world no matter how much by body, my lifestyle, or any of my self – be it my choices or genetics or anything – did not conform.

I acutely remember losing a bunch (not all, but a bunch) of that bloody-mindedness in my early 30s.

Now I’m nigh on 40. Just three years and a few months until then. I’ll have been through a major bout of depression, dealt with many losses, probably still working many jobs. My sprogs will be grown ups (gasp!) and I might, just might, be able to get back to being comfortable with myself. Regain some of that bloody-mindedness and age FIERCELY.

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